LONGFELLOH 



DICKENS 



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PHILUPS 

WHITT1ER 



HOLMES 




Memory Gems 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Standard Selections 



ELOCUTIONARY DRILL AND MEMORY WORK 
IN GRAMMAR AND HIGH SCHOOLS 



COMPILED BY 

JOHN D. BILLINGS 

Principal of Webster School, CAMBRiDGErORT, Mass. 




SSHBS^ , 



CHICAGO 

THE INTERSTATE PUBLISHING COMPANY 
Boston : 30 Franklin Street 






Copyright, 1886, by 
The Interstate Publishing Company. 



Electrotyped by J. S. Ciishing &= Co., Boston. 



PREFACE. 



The aim of this collection is to furnish advanced classes 
in Grammar Schools with a limited supply of material suit- 
able for elocutionary drill and memory work in connection 
with the Supplementary Reading now in general use. It will 
be found equally valuable in High Schools, for the same pur- 
poses. Only those selections have been chosen whose merit 
ranks them by common consent among the classics in English 
literature. To them have been added a few pages of choice 
extracts from standard authors for use as memory gems. 

The judgment of the compiler has been largely aided by 
that of several fellow- teachers, to whom he here expresses his 
thanks, as well as to Houghton, Mifflin & Co., The J. B. Lippin- 
cott Company, and Lee and Shepard, for copyright privileges. 

Cam Bridgeport, Mass., 
Oct. 15, 1886. 



CONTENTS. 



SELECTION PAGE 

1 . A Psalm of Life H. W. Longfellow .... 9 

2. Scrooge and Marley Charles Dickens .... 10 

3. Glories of the Heavens .... Joseph Addison 13 

4. House-Cleaning in Olden Times . Francis Hopkinson ... 14 

5. Warren's Address before the Battle 

of Bunker Hill John Pierpont 17 

6. The Burial of Moses Mrs. Cecil F. Alexander . 18 

7. Lincoln's Dedicatory Speech at 

Gettysburg 21 

8. The Patriot's Elysium James Montgomery ... 22 

9. Sir Anthony Absolute and Captain 

Absolute Richard Brinsley Sheridan 24 

10. The Life-Boat 28 

1 1 . Tact and Talent 30 

12. Old Ironsides Oliver Wendell Holmes . . 32 

13. Inestimable Value of the Federal 

Union Daniel Webster . . , . 33 

14. Address to the Mummy .... Horace Smith 36 

15. Description of the Sunrise . . . Edward Everett . . . . 39 

16. Extract from Elegy written in a 

Country Church-Yard .... Thomas Gray 41 

17. Sheridan's Ride Thomas Buchanan Read . .42 

18. Rules for Reading Ralph Waldo Emerson . . 45 

19. The Will and the Way .... John G. Saxe 46 

20. Catiline's Defiance 47 

21. The American Flag Joseph R. Drake .... 48 

22. The American War William Pitt 51 

23. The Heritage James Russell Lowell . . . 54 

24. South Carolina and Massachusetts Da?iiel Webster .... 56 

25. Polish War-Song James G. Percival ... 59 



6 CONTENTS. 

SELECTION PAGE 

26. The Sleigh-Ride; or, Two Ways 

of Telling a Story H. K. Oliver 60 

27. The Winged W T orshipers .... Charles Sprague .... 65 

28. Thoughts on Politeness .... George S. Hillard .... 67 

29. The Coral Grove James G. Percival ... 69 

30. The Discontented Pendulum . . Jane Taylor 70 

31. Independence Bell 73 

32. Hallowed Ground ...... Thomas Campbell .... 76 

^. Of Studies Francis Bacon 79 

34. Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers . Mrs. Felicia D. Hemans . 81 

35. Extract from Emmet's Speech . . 83 

36. Charge of the Light Brigade . . Alfred Tennyson .... 85 

37. " Matches and Over-Matches " . . Daniel Webster .... 87 

38. Extract from Snow-Bound . . . John G. Whitiier .... 89 

39. After Marriage Richard Brinsley Sheridan 91 

40. The Soldier's Dirge Theodore CHara . . . . 95 

41. Speech of Patrick Henry 97 

42. New England's Dead Isaac McLellan .... 99 

43. O'Connell as an Orator .... Wendell Phillips . . . .101 

44. John Maynard 104 

45. Last Inaugural of Lincoln 107 

46. Marco Bozzaris Fitz- Greene Halleck . . .110 

47. The Moneyed Man . . . . . New Monthly Magazine . .113 

48. New England James G. Percival . . .116 

49. Tom Brown's Visit to Dr. Arnold's 

Tomb Thomas Hughes . . . .118 

Memory Gems * 121 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 



Standard Selections. 

I. — A PSALM OF LIFE. 

H. W. Longfellow; i 807-1 882. 

1. Tell me not, in mournful numbers, 

" Life is but an empty dream ! " 
For the soul is dead that slumbers, 
And things are not what they seem. 

2. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! 

And the grave is not its goal ; 
"Dust thou art, to dust retumest," 
Was not spoken of the soul. 

3. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, 

Is our destined end or way ; 

But to act, that each to-morrow 

Find us farther than to-day. 

4. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, 

And our hearts, though stout and brave, 
Still, like muffled drums, are beating 
Funeral marches to the grave. 



IO STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

5. In the world's broad field of battle, 

In the bivouac of life, 
Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! 
Be a hero in the strife ! 

6. Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ; 

Let the dead Past bury its dead : 
Act, — act in the living Present ! 
Heart within, and God o'erhead. 

7. Lives of great men all remind us 

We can make our lives sublime, 
And, departing, leave behind us 

Footprints on the sands of time ; — 

8. Footprints, that perhaps another, 

Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 

A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, 

Seeing, shall take heart again. 

9. Let us, then, be up and doing, 

With a heart for any fate ; 
Still achieving, still pursuing, 
Learn to labor and to wait. 

II.— SCROOGE AND MARLEY. 

Charles Dickens; 1812-1870. 

I. Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no 
doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial 



SCROOGE AND MARLEY. II 

was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the under- 
taker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it ; and 
Scrooge's name was good upon 'Change for anything 
he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as 
dead as a door-nail. 

2. Mind ! I don't mean to say that I know, of my 
own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about 
a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to 
regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery 
in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in 
the simile ; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb 
it ; or the country's done for. You will therefore per- 
mit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead 
as a door-nail. 

3. Scrooge knew he was dead ? Of course he did. 
How could it be otherwise ? Scrooge and Marley were 
partners for I don't know how many years. Scrooge 
was his sole executor, his sole administrator, his sole 
assign, his sole residuary legatee, his sole friend and 
sole mourner. And even Scrooge was not so dread- 
fully cut up by the sad event, but that he was an excel- 
lent man of business on the very day of the funeral, and 
solemnized it with an undoubted bargain. 

4. Scrooge never painted out Old Marley's name. 
There it stood, years afterwards, above the warehouse 
door: " Scrooge and Marley." The firm was known as 
Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes people, new to the 
"business, called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes Mar- 
ley ; but he answered to both names ; it was all the 
same to him. 



12 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

5. Oh ! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grind- 
stone, Scrooge ! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scrap- 
ing, clutching, covetous old sinner ! Hard and sharp 
as flint, from which no steel had ever struck out gen- 
erous fire ; secret, and self-contained, and solitary as an 
oyster. The cold within him froze his old features, 
nipped his pointed nose, shriveled his cheek, stiffened 
his gait ; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue ; and 
spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. A frosty 
rime was on his head, and on his eyebrows, and his 
wiry chin. He carried his own low temperature always 
about with him ; he iced his office in the dog-days ; and 
did n't thaw it one degree at Christmas. 

6. External heat and cold had little influence on 
Scrooge. No warmth could warm, nor wintry weather 
chill him. No wind that blew was bitterer than he ; 
no falling snow was more intent upon its purpose ; no 
pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul weather did n't 
know where to have him. The heaviest rain, and snow, 
and hail, and sleet, could boast of the advantage over 
him, in only one respect. They often "came down" 
handsomely, and Scrooge never did. 

7. Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, 
with gladsome looks, " My dear Scrooge, how are you ? 
when will you come to see me?" No beggars im- 
plored him to bestow a trifle ; no children asked him 
what it was o'clock ; no woman or man ever once, in all 
his life, inquired the way to such and such a place, of 
Scrooge. Even the blind-men's dogs appeared to know 
him ; and when they saw him coming on, would tug 



GLORIES OF THE HEAVENS. 1 3 

their owners into doorways, and up courts ; and then 
would wag their tails, as though they said, " No eye at 
all is better than an evil eye, dark master ! " 

8. But what did Scrooge care ? It was the very 
thing he liked. To edge his way along the crowded 
paths of life, warning all human sympathy to keep its 
distance, was what the knowing ones called "nuts " to 
Scrooge. 



Ml. — GLORIES OF THE HEAVENS. 1 

Joseph Addison; 1672-1719. 

1. The spacious firmament on high, 
With all the blue ethereal sky, 

And spangled heavens, a shining frame, 

Their great Original proclaim. 

Th' unwearied sun, from clay to day, 

Does his Creator's power display, 

And publishes to every land 

The work of an Almighty hand. 

2. Soon as the evening shades prevail, 
The moon takes up the wondrous tale, 
And nightly to the listening earth 
Repeats the story of her birth ; 
Whilst all the stars that round her burn, 
And all the planets in their turn, 

1 Hymn from part of the Nineteenth Psalm. 



14 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

Confirm the tidings as they roll, 

And spread the truth from pole to pole. 

3. What though in solemn silence all 
Move round the dark terrestrial ball ? 
What though nor real voice, nor sound, 
Amidst their radiant orbs be found ? 
In reason's ear they all rejoice, 
And utter forth a glorious voice, 
Forever singing, as they shine, 
" The hand that made us is divine." 



o^c 



IV.— HOUSE-CLEANING IN OLDEN TIMES. 

Francis Hopkinson; 1737-1791. 

I. The husband gone, the ceremony begins. The 
walls are stripped of their furniture — paintings, prints, 
and looking-glasses lie huddled in heaps about the floors ; 
the curtains are torn from their testers, the beds 
crammed into windows ; chairs and tables, bedsteads 
and cradles crowd the yard ; and the garden-fence bends 
beneath the weight of carpets, blankets, cloth cloaks, 
old coats, and ragged breeches. Here may be seen the 
lumber of the kitchen, forming a dark and confused 
mass for the foreground of the picture ; gridirons and 
frying-pans, rusty shovels and broken tongs, joint-stools 
and the fractured remains of rush-bottomed chairs. 
There, a closet has disgorged its bowels — riveted 



HOUSE-CLEANING IN OLDEN TIMES. 1 5 

plates and dishes, halves of China bowls, cracked tum- 
blers, broken wine-glasses, phials of forgotten physic, 
papers of unknown powders, seeds, and dried herbs, 
tops of teapots, and stoppers of departed decanters — 
from the rag-hole in the garret to the rat-hole in the 
cellar, no place escapes unrummaged. 

2. This ceremony completed, and the house thor- 
oughly evacuated, the next operation is to smear the 
walls and ceilings with brushes, dipped into a solution 
of lime called whitewash ; to pour buckets of water 
over every floor ; and scratch all the partitions and 
wainscots with hard brushes, charged with soft soap 
and stone-cutter's sand. 

3. The windows by no means escape the general 
deluge. A servant scrambles out upon the pent-house, 
at the risk of her neck, and with a mug in her hand, 
and a bucket within reach, dashes innumerable gallons 
of water against the glass panes, to the great annoy- 
ance of passengers in the street. 

4. I have been told that an action at law was once 
brought against one of these water-nymphs, by a person 
who had a new suit of clothes spoiled by this operation ; 
but after long argument it was determined that no dam- 
ages could be awarded, inasmuch as the defendant was 
in the exercise of a legal right, and not answerable for 
the consequences. And so the poor gentleman was 
doubly non-suited, for he lost both his suit of clothes 
and his suit at law. 

5.. These smearings and scratchings, these washings 
and dashings, being duly performed, the next ceremo- 



l6 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

nial is to cleanse and replace the distracted furniture. 
You may have seen a house-raising or a ship-launch — 
recollect, if you can, the hurry, bustle, confusion, and 
noise of such a scene, and you will have some idea of 
this cleansing match. The misfortune is, that the sole 
object is to make things clean. It matters not how 
many useful, ornamental, or valuable articles suffer 
mutilation or death under the operation. A mahogany 
chair and a carved frame undergo the same discipline ; 
they are to be made clean at all events ; but their pres- 
ervation is not worthy of attention. 

6. For instance: a fine large engraving is laid flat 
upon the floor; a number of smaller prints are piled 
upon it, until the superincumbent weight cracks the 
lower glass — but this is of no importance. A valuable 
picture is placed leaning against the sharp corner of a 
table ; others are made to lean against that, till the 
pressure of the whole forces the corner of the table 
through the canvas of the first. The frame and glass 
of a fine print are to be cleaned ; the spirit and oil used 
on this occasion are suffered to leak through and de- 
face the engraving — no matter! If the glass is clean 
and the frame shines, it is sufficient — the rest is not 
worthy of consideration. An able arithmetician has 
made a calculation, founded on long experience, and 
proved that the losses and destruction incident to two 
whitewashings are equal to one removal, and three re- 
movals equal to one fire. 

7. This cleansing frolic over, matters begin to resume 
their pristine appearance ; the storm abates, and all 



WARRENS ADDRESS. 1 7 

would be well again, but it is impossible that so great 
a convulsion in so small a community should pass over 
without producing some consequences. For two or 
three weeks after the operation, the family are usually 
afflicted with sore eyes, sore throats, or severe colds, 
occasioned by exhalations from wet floors and damp 
walls. . . . 

V. — WARREN'S ADDRESS BEFORE THE BATTLE 
OF BUNKER HILL. 

John Pierpont; 1785-1866. 

1. Stand ! the ground 's your own, my braves ! 
Will ye give it up to slaves ? 

Will ye hope for greener graves ? 

Hope ye mercy still ? 
What's the mercy despots feel ! 
Hear it in that battle peal ! 
Read it on yon bristling steel ! 

Ask it — ye who will. 

2. Fear ye foes who kill for hire ? 
Will ye to your Jwmes retire ? 
Look behind you ! they 're afire ! 

And, before you, see 
Who have done it ! — From the vale 
On they come ! — and will ye quail ? 
Leaden rain and iron hail 

Let their welcome be ! 



I 8 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

3. In the God of battles trust ! 

Die we may — and die we must ; 
But, oh, where can dust to dust 

Be consigned so well, 
As where heaven its dews shall shed 
On the martyred patriot's bed, 
And the rocks shall raise their head 
Of his deeds to tell ? 



VI. — THE BURIAL OF MOSES. 

Mrs. Cecil F. Alexander; 1830- 

["And He buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against 
Beth-peor; but no man knoweth of his sepulcher unto this day." — Deut. 
xxxiv. 6.] 

1. By Nebo's lonely mountain, 

On this side Jordan's wave, 
In a vale in the land of Moab, 

There Hes a lonely grave. 
And no man dug that sepulcher, 

And no man saw it e'er ; 
For the angels of God upturned the sod, 

And laid the dead man there. 

2. That was the grandest funeral 

That ever passed on earth ; 
But no man heard the trampling, 
Or saw the train go forth. 



THE BURIAL OF MOSES. 19 

Noiselessly as the daylight 

Comes when the night is done, 
And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek 

Grows into the great sun, — 

3. Noiselessly as the spring time 

Her crown of verdure weaves, 
And all the trees on all the hills 

Open their thousand leaves, — 
So, without sound of musk 

Or voice of them that wept, 
Silently down from the mountain crown 

The great procession swept. 

4. Perchance the bald old eagle, 

On gray Beth-peor's height, 
Out of his rocky eyrie 

Looked on the wondrous sight. 
Perchance, the lion, stalking, 

Still shuns that hallowed spot, 
For beast and bird have seen and heard 

That which man knoweth not. 

5. But when the warrior dieth, 

His comrades in the war, 
With arms reversed and muffled drum, 

Follow the funeral car. 
They show the banners taken, 

They tell his battles won, 
And after him lead his masterless steed, 

While peals the minute-gun. 



20 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

6. Amid the noblest of the land 

Men lay the sage to rest A 
And give the bard an honored place, 

With costly marble dressed, 
In the great minster transept, 

Where lights like glories fall, 
And the choir sings, and the organ rings 

Along the emblazoned wall. 

7. This was the bravest warrior 

That ever buckled sword ; 
This the most gifted poet 

That ever breathed a word ; 
And never earth's philosopher 

Traced, with his golden pen, 
On the deathless page, truths half so sage 

As he wrote down for men. 

8. And had he not high honor — 

The hillside for his pall, 
To lie in state while angels wait 

With stars for tapers tall ; 
And the dark rock-pines, like tossing plumes, 

Over his bier to wave ; 
And God's own hand, in that lonely land, 

To lay him in the grave ? 

9. In that strange grave, without a name, 

Whence his uncoffined clay 
Shall break again — O wondrous thought ! — 
Before the judgment day, 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 21 

And stand, with glory wrapped around, 

On the hills he never trod, 
And speak of the strife that won our life, 

With the incarnate Son of God. 

10. O lonely tomb in Moab's land ! 

O dark Beth-peor's hill ! 
Speak to these curious hearts of ours, 

And teach them to be still. 
God hath his mysteries of grace, — 

Ways that we cannot tell ; 
He hides them deep, like the hidden sleep 

Of him he loved so well. 



oX*o 



VII. — ABRAHAM LINCOLN; 1809-1865. 

Speech at the Dedication of the National Cemetery at Gettysburg, Nov. 19, 1863. 

1. Fourscore and seven years as;o our fathers 
brought forth upon this continent a new nation, con- 
ceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that 
all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a 
great civil war, testing whether that nation, or anv 
nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. 
We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We 
have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final 
resting-place for those who here gave their lives that 
that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and 
proper that we should do this.; 

2. But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate, we can- 



22 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

not consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The 
brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have 
consecrated it far above our power to add or detract. 
The world will little note, nor long remember, what we 
say here, but it can never forget what they did here. 
It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to 
the unfinished work which they who fought here have 
thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be 
here dedicated to the great task remaining before us, 
that from these honored dead we take increased devo- 
tion to that cause for which they gave the last full 
measure of devotion ; that we here highly resolve that 
these dead shall not have died in vain ; that this nation, 
under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that 
governments of the people, by the people, and for the 
people, shall not perish from the earth. 

VIII. — THE PATRIOT'S ELYSIUM. 

James Montgomery; 1771-1854. 

1. There is a land, of every land the pride, 
Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside ; 
Where brighter suns dispense serener light, 
And milder moons imparadise the night ; 

A land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth, 
Time-tutored age, and love-exalted youth. 

2. The wandering mariner, whose eye explores 
The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores, 



THE PATRIOT'S ELYSIUM. 23 

Views not a realm so bountiful and fair, 
Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air ; 
In every clime, the magnet of his soul, 
Touched by remembrance, trembles to that pole ; 
For in this land of Heaven's peculiar grace, 
The heritage of nature's noblest race, 
There is a spot of earth supremely blest, 
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest, 
Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside 
His sword and scepter, pageantry and pride ; 
While, in his softened looks, benignly blend 
The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend. 

3. Here woman reigns ; the mother, daughter, wife, 
Strews with fresh flowers the narrow way of life ; 
In the clear heaven of her delighted eye, 
An angel-guard of Loves and Graces lie ; 
Around her knees domestic duties meet, 
And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet. 
"Where shall that land, that spot of earth be 

found?" 
Art thou a man ? — a patriot ? — look around ! 
Oh ! thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam, 
That land thy country, and that spot thy home. 



Be earnest, then, in thought and deed, 
Nor fear approaching night ; 
Calm comes with evening light, — 

And hope, and peace — thy duty heed 

To-day. 



24 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 



IX. — SIR ANTHONY ABSOLUTE AND CAPTAIN 
ABSOLUTE. 

Richard Brinsley Sheridan; 1751-1816. 

Capt. A. Sir Anthony, I am delighted to see you 
here, and looking so well ! Your sudden arrival at 
Bath made me apprehensive for your health. 

Sir A, Very apprehensive, I dare say, Jack. What, 
you are recruiting here, hey ? 

Capt. A. Yes, sir, I am on duty. 

Sir A. Well, Jack, I am glad to see you, though I did 
not expect it ; for I was going to write to you on a little 
matter of business. Jack, I have been considering that 
I grow old and infirm, and shall probably not be with 
you long. 

Capt. A. Pardon me, sir, I never saw you look more 
strong and hearty ; and I pray fervently that you may 
continue so. 

Sir A. I hope your prayers may be heard, with all 
my heart. Well then, Jack, I have been considering 
that I am so strong and hearty, I may continue to plague 
you a long time. Now, Jack, I am sensible that the 
income of your commission, and what I have hitherto 
allo\yed you, is but a small pittance for a lad of your 
spirit. 

Capt. A. Sir, you are very good. 

Sir A. And it is my wish, while yet I live, to have 
my boy make some figure in the world. I have resolved, 
therefore, to fix you at once in a noble independence. 



SIR ANTHONY AND CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE. 2$ 

Capt. A. Sir, your kindness overpowers me. Yet, 
sir, I presume you would not wish me to quit the army ? 

Sir A. Oh ! that shall be as your wife chooses. 

Capt. A. My wife, sir ! 

Sir A. Ay, ay, settle that between you ; settle that 
between you. 

Capt. A. A wife, sir, did you say ? 

Sir A. Ay, a wife: why, did I not mention her be- 
fore ? 

Capt. A. Not a word of her, sir. 

Sir A. Yes, Jack, the independence I was talking of 
is by a marriage ; the fortune is saddled with a wife ; 
but I suppose that makes no difference ? 

Capt. A. Sir, sir, you amaze me ! 

Sir A. What 's the matter with the fool ? — just now 
you were all gratitude and duty. 

Capt. A. I was, sir ; you talked to me of indepen- 
dence and a fortune, but not one word of a wife. 

Sir A. Why, what difference does that make? Sir, 
if you have the estate, you must take it with the live 
stock on it, as it stands. 

Capt. A. Pray, sir, who is the lady? 

Sir A. What's that to you, sir? Come, give me 
your promise to love, and to marry her directly. 

Capt. A. Sure, sir, that's not very reasonable, to 
summon my affections for a lady I know nothing of! 

Sir A. I am sure, sir, 'tis more unreasonable in you 
to object to a lady you know nothing of, — 

Capt. A. You must excuse me, sir, if I tell you, once 
for all, that in this point I cannot obey you. 



26 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

Sir A, Hark ye, Jack ; I have heard you for some 
time with patience, — I have been cool, — quite cool : 
but take care ; you know I am compliance itself, when 
I am not thwarted; no one more easily led, when I have 
my own way ; but don't put me in a frenzy. 

Capt. A. Sir, I must repeat it ; in this I cannot obey 
you. 

Sir A. Now, hang me, if ever I call you Jack again, 
while I live ! 

Capt, A. Nay, sir, but hear me. 

Sir A. Sir, I won't hear a word, not a word ! not one 
word ! So give me your promise by a nod, and I '11 tell 
you what, Jack, — I mean, you dog, if you don't by 

Capt, A. What, sir, promise to link myself to some 
mass of ugliness ; to 

Sir A. Zounds ! sirrah! the lady shall be as ugly as 
I choose : she shall have a hump on each shoulder; she 
shall be as crooked as the crescent ; her one eye shall roil 
like the bull's in Cox's museum ; she shall have a skin 
like a mummy, and the beard of a Jew. She shall be 
all this, sirrah ! Yes, I '11 make you ogle her all day, 
and sit up all night to write sonnets on her beauty. 

Capt, A. This is reason and moderation, indeed ! 

Sir A, None of your sneering, puppy! no grinning, 
jackanapes ! 

Capt, A. Indeed, sir, I never was in a worse humor 
for mirth in my life. 

Sir A. Tis false, sir; I know you are laughing in 
your sleeve ; I know you '11 grin when I am gone, sir- 
rah ! 



SIR ANTHONY AND CAPTAIN ABSOLUTE. 2J 

Capt. A. Sir, I hope I know my duty better. 

Sir A. None of your passion, sir; none of your vio- 
lence, if you please ; it won't do with me, I promise 
you. 

Capt. A. Indeed, sir, I was never cooler in my life. 

Sir A. Tis a confounded lie! I know you are in a 
passion in your heart ; I know you are a hypocritical 
young dog ; but it won't do. 

Capt. A. Nay, sir, upon my word, — 

Sir A. So you will fly out ! Can't you be cool, like 
me ? What good can passion do ? Passion is of no 
service, you impudent, insolent, overbearing reprobate ! 
There, you sneer again ! Don't provoke me ! But you 
rely upon the mildness of my temper, you do, you dog ! 
You play upon the meekness of my disposition ! Yet 
take care ; the patience of a saint may be overcome at 
last ! But mark ! I give you six hours and a half to 
consider of this ; if you then agree, without any con- 
dition, to do everything on earth that I choose, why, 
confound you ! I may in time forgive you. If not, don't 
enter the same hemisphere with me ! don't dare to 
breathe the same air, or use the same light with me ; 
but get an atmosphere and a sun of your own : I '11 strip 
you of your commission : I '11 lodge a five-and-three-pence 
in the hands of trustees, and you shall live on the in- 
terest. I '11 disown you ; I '11 disinherit you ; and hang 
me if ever I call you Jack again ! [Exit. 

Capt. A. Mild, gentle, considerate father, I kiss your 
hands. 



28 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 



X.— THE LIFE-BOAT. 

FIRST VOICE. 

i. Quick ! man the life-boat ! See yon bark 

That drives before the blast ! 
There 's a rock ahead, the fog is dark, 

And the storm comes thick and fast. 
Can human power, in such an hour, 

Avert the doom that 's o'er her ? 
Her mainmast is gone, but she still drives on 

To the fatal reef before her. 

ALL. 

The life-boat ! Man the life-boat ! 

SECOND VOICE. 

2. Quick ! man the life-boat ! Hark ! the gun 

Booms through the vapory air ; 
And see ! the signal flags are on, 

That speak the ship's despair. 
That forked flash, that pealing crash, 

Seemed from the wave to sweep her ; 
She's on the rock, with a terrible shock — 

And the wail comes louder and deeper. 

ALL. 

The life-boat ! Man the life-boat ! 



THE LIFE-BOAT. 29 

THIRD VOICE. 

3. Quick ! man the life-boat ! See the crew- 

Gaze on their watery grave ; 
Already some, a gallant few, 

Are battling with the wave ; 
And one there stands and wrings his hands, 

As thoughts of home come o'er him ! 
For his wife and child, through the tempest wild, 

He sees on the heights before him. 

ALL. 

The life-boat ! Man the life-boat ! 

FOURTH VOICE. 

4. Speed ! speed the life-boat ! Off she goes ! 

And, as they pull the oar, 
From shore and ship a cheer arose 

That startled ship and shore. 
Life-saving ark, yon fated bark 

Has human lives within her ; 
And dearer than gold is the wealth untold 

Thou'lt save if thou canst win her. 

ALL. 

On, life-boat ! Speed thee, life-boat ! 

FIFTH VOICE. 

5. Hurrah ! the life-boat dashes on, 

Though darkly the reef may frown ; 



30 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

The rock is there — the ship is gone 

Full twenty fathoms down. 
But, cheered by hope, the seamen cope 

With the billows single-handed ; — 
They are all in the boat ! — hurrah ! they're afloat ! — 

And now they are safely landed, 
By the life-boat ! 

FIRST VOICE. 

Cheer the life-boat ! 

ALL. 

Hurrah ! hurrah for the life-boat ! 

m 

XI.— TACT AND TALENT. 

London Atlas. 

i. Talent is something, but tact is everything. 
Talent is serious, sober, grave, and respectable ; tact 
is all that, and more too. It is not a sixth sense, but 
it is the life of all the five. It is the open eye, the 
quick ear, the judging taste, the keen smell, and the 
lively touch ; it is the interpreter of all riddles, the sur- 
mounter of all difficulties, the remover of all obstacles. 
It is useful in all places, and at all times ; it is useful in 
solitude, for it shows a man into the world ; it is useful 
in society, for it shows him his way through the world. 

2. Talent is power, tact is skill ; talent is weight, 



TACT AND TALENT. 3 1 

tact is momentum ; talent knows what to do, tact knows 
how to do it ; talent makes a man respectable, tact will 
make him respected ; talent is wealth, tact is ready 
money. For all the practical purposes, tact carries it 
against talent ten to one. 

3. Take them to the theatre, and put them against 
each other on the stage, and talent shall produce you a 
tragedy that shall scarcely live long enough to be con- 
demned, while tact keeps the house in a roar, night after 
night, with its successful farces. There is no want of 
dramatic talent, there is no want of dramatic tact ; but 
they are seldom together : so we have successful pieces 
which are not respectable, and respectable pieces which 
are not successful. 

4. Take them to the bar, and let them shake their 
learned curls at each other in legal rivalry ; talent sees 
its way clearly, but tact is first at its journey's end. 
Talent has many a compliment from the bench, but tact 
touches fees. Talent makes the world wonder that it 
gets on no faster ; tact arouses astonishment that it gets 
on so fast. And the secret is, that it has no weight to 
carry ; it makes no false steps ; it hits the right nail on 
the head ; it loses no time ; it takes all hints ; and by 
keeping its eye on the weather-cock, is ready to take 
advantage of every wind that blows. 

5. Take them into the church : talent has always 
something worth hearing, tact is sure of abundance of 
hearers ; talent may obtain a living, tact will make one ; 
talent gets a good name, tact a great one ; talent con- 
vinces, tact converts ; talent is an honor to the profes- 
sion, tact gains honor from the profession. 



32 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

6. Take them to court : talent feels its weight, tact 
finds its way ; talent commands, tact is obeyed ; talent 
is honored by approbation, and tact is blessed by prefer- 
ment. Place them in the senate : talent has the ear of 
the house, but tact wins its heart, and has its votes ; 
talent is fit for employment, but tact is fitted for it. It 
has a knack of slipping into place with a sweet silence 
and glibness of movement, as a billiard-ball insinuates 
itself into the pocket. 

7. It seems to know everything without learning any- 
thing. It has served an extemporary apprenticeship ; 
it wants no drilling ; it never ranks in the awkward 
squad ; it has no left hand, no deaf ear, no blind side. 
It puts on no look of wondrous wisdom, it has no air of 
profundity, but plays with the details of place as dexter- 
ously as a well-taught hand flourishes over the keys of 
the piano-forte. It has all the air of common-place, and 
all the force and power of genius. 

XII. — OLD IRONSIDES. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes; 1809- 

[The following spirited lines were called forth by a rumor that the 
frigate Constitution was about to be broken up as unfit for service.] 

I. Ay, tear her tattered ensign down ! 
Long has it waved on high, 
And many an eye has danced to see 
That banner in the sky ; 



INESTIMABLE VALUE OF THE FEDERAL UNION. 33 

Beneath it rung the battle shout, 

And burst the cannon's roar ; 
The meteor of the ocean air 

Shall sweep the clouds no more. 

2. Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, 

Where knelt the vanquished foe, 
When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, 

And waves were white below, 
No more shall feel the victor's tread, 

Or know the conquered knee ; 
The harpies of the shore shall pluck 

The eagle of the sea. 

3. O, better that her shattered hulk 

Should sink beneath the wave ; 
Her thunders shook the mighty deep, 

And there should be her grave. 
Nail to the mast her holy flag ; 

Set every threadbare sail, 
And give her to the god of storms — 

The lightning and the gale ! 



o>^o 



XIII. — INESTIMABLE VALUE OF THE FEDERAL 

UNION. 

Daniel Webster; 1782-1852. From the " Reply to Hayne, in the U. S. Senate." 

I. I profess, sir, in my career hitherto, to have kept 
steadily in view the prosperity and honor of the whole 



34 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

country, and the preservation of our Federal Union. It 
is to that Union we owe our safety at home and our 
consideration and dignity abroad. It is to that Union 
we are chiefly indebted for whatever makes us most 
proud of our country. That Union we reached only 
by the discipline of our virtues in the severe school of 
adversity. 

2. It had its origin in the necessities of disordered 
finance, prostrate commerce, and ruined credit. Under 
its benign influences these great interests immediately 
awoke, as from the dead, and sprang forth with new- 
ness of life. Every year of its duration has teemed 
with fresh proofs of its utility and its blessings ; and 
although our territory has stretched out wider and 
wider, and our population spread farther and farther, 
they have not outrun its protection or its benefits. It 
has been to us all a copious fountain of national, social, 
personal happiness. 

3. I have not allowed myself, sir, to look beyond the 
Union to see what might lie hidden in the dark recess 
behind. I have not coolly weighed the chances of pre- 
serving liberty when the bonds that unite us together 
shall be broken asunder. I have not accustomed myself 
to hang over the precipice of disunion, to see whether, 
with my short sight, I can fathom the depth of the 
abyss below ; nor could I regard him as a safe coun- 
sellor in the affairs of this government whose thoughts 
should be mainly bent on considering, not how the 
Union should be best preserved, but how tolerable 
might be the condition of the people when it shall 



INESTIMABLE VALUE OF THE FEDERAL UNION. 35 

be broken up and destroyed. While the Union lasts 
we have high, exciting, gratifying prospects spread out 
before us, for us and our children. Beyond that I do 
not seek to penetrate the veil. God grant that, in my 
day at least, that curtain may not rise. God grant that 
on my vision never may be opened what lies behind. 

4. When my eyes shall be turned to behold for the 
last time the sun in heaven, may I not see him shining 
on the broken and dishonored fragments of a once glo- 
rious Union ; on states dissevered, discordant, belliger- 
ent ; on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it 
may be, in fraternal blood ! Let their last feeble and 
lingering glance rather behold the gorgeous ensign of 
the republic, now known and honored throughout the 
earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophies 
streaming in their original lustre, not a stripe erased 
or polluted, nor a single star obscured, — bearing for its 
motto no such miserable interrogatory as, What is all 
this worth ? nor those other words of delusion and folly, 
Liberty first, and Union afterwards; but everywhere, 
spread all over in characters of living light, blazing on 
all its ample folds, as they float over the sea and over 
the land, and in every wind under the whole heavens, 
that other sentiment, dear to every American heart — 
Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and insepa- 

ra ^ e ' 

The heights by great men reached and kept 
Were not attained by sudden flight ; 

Bat they, while their companions slept, 
Were toiling upward in the night. 



2,6 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 



. XIV. — ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY IN BELZONI'S 
EXHIBITION, LONDON. 

Horace Smith; 1779-1849. 

1. And thou hast walked about (how strange a story!) 

In Thebes's 1 streets three thousand years ago, 
When the Memnonium 2 was in all its glory, 

And time had not begun to overthrow 
Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, 
Of which the very ruins are tremendous. 

2. Speak ! for thou long enough hast acted dummy ; 

Thou hast a tongue — come, let us hear its tune ; 
Thou 'rt standing on thy legs, above ground, Mummy, 

Revisiting the glimpses of the moon ; 
Not like thin ghosts or disembodied creatures, 
But with thy bones, and flesh, and limbs, and features. 

3. Tell us — for doubtless thou canst recollect — 

To whom should we assign the Sphinx's 3 fame? 
Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect 

Of either Pyramid that bears his name? 4 

1 Thebes was a celebrated city of Upper Egypt, of which extensive 
ruins still remain. 

2 The Memnonium was a building combining the properties of a palace 
and a temple, the ruins of which are remarkable for symmetry of archi- 
tecture and elegance of sculpture. 

3 The great Sphinx, at the Pyramids, is hewn out of a rock, in the form 
of a lion with a human head, and is one hundred and forty-three feet in 
length, and sixty-two feet in height in front. 

4 The Pyramids are well-known structures near Cairo. According to 
Herodotus, the great Pyramid, so called, was built by Cheops (pronounced 



ADDRESS TO THE MUMMY. 37 

Is Pompey's Pillar really a misnomer? 1 

Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer ? 

4. Perhaps thou wert a Mason, and forbidden 

By oath to tell the mysteries of thy trade ; 
Then say what secret melody was hidden 

In Memnon's statue, which at sunrise played. 2 
Perhaps thou wert a priest ; if so, my struggles 
Are vain ; Egyptian priest ne'er owned his juggles. 

5. Perchance that very hand, now pinioned flat, 

Has hob-a-nobbed with Pharaoh, glass to glass ; 
Or dropped a halfpenny in Homer's hat ; 

Or doffed thine own to let Queen Dido pass ; 
Or held, by Solomon's own invitation, 
A torch at the great temple's dedication. 

6. I need not ask thee if that hand, when armed, 

Has any Roman soldier mauled and knuckled ; 
For thou wert dead, and buried, and embalmed, 

Ere Romulus and Remus had been suckled : — 
Antiquity appears to have begun 
Long after thy primeval race was run. 

Ke'ops). He was succeeded by his brother Cephren (pronounced Se'fren), 
or Cephrenes (pronounced Se-fre'nez), who, according to the same histo- 
rian, built another of the Pyramids. 

1 Pompey's Pillar is a column almost a hundred feet high, near Alex- 
andria. It is now generally admitted by the learned to have had no con- 
nection with the Roman general whose name it bears. 

2 This was a statue at Thebes, said to utter at sunrise a sound like the 
twanging of a harpstring or of a metallic wire. 



38 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

7. Since first thy form was in this box extended, 

We have, above ground, seen some strange muta- 
tions ; 
The Roman empire has begun and ended ; 

New worlds have risen — we have lost old nations, 
And countless kings have into dust been humbled, 
While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled. 

8. Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head 

When the great Persian conqueror, Cambyses, 
Marched armies o'er thy tomb with thundering tread, 1 

O'erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis, 2 
And shook the pyramids with fear and wonder, 
When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder ? 

9. If the tomb's secrets may not be confessed, 

The nature of thy private life unfold : — 
A heart has throbbed beneath that leathern breast, 

And tears adown that dusky cheek have rolled. 
Have children climbed those knees, and kissed that 

face ? 
What were thy name and station, age and race ? 

10. Statue of flesh — immortal of the dead! 

Imperishable type of evanescence! 
Posthumous man, who quitt'st thy narrow bed, ' 
And standest undecayed within our presence, 

1 Egypt was conquered 525 B.C., by Cambyses, the second king of 
Persia. 

2 These are the names of Egyptian deities. 



DESCRIPTION OF THE SUNRISE. 39 

Thou wilt hear nothing till the judgment morning, 
When the great trump shall thrill thee with its 
warning. 

1 1, Why should this worthless tegument endure, 
If its undying guest be lost forever? 
O, let us keep the soul embalmed and pure 
In living virtue; that when both must sever, 
Although corruption may our frame consume, 
The immortal spirit in the skies may bloom. 

XV. — DESCRIPTION OF THE SUNRISE. 

Edward Everett; 1794-1S65. 

I. I had occasion, a few weeks since, to take the 
early train from Providence to Boston, and for this pur- 
pose rose at two o'clock in the morning. Everything 
around was wrapt in darkness and hushed in silence, 
broken only by what seemed at that hour the unearthly 
clank and rush of the train. It was a mild, serene, mid- 
summer's night, — the sky was without a cloud, — the 
winds were whist. The moon, then in the last quarter, 
had just risen, and the stars shone with a spectral lustre 
but little affected by her presence. Jupiter, two hours 
high, was the herald of the day ; the Pleiades, just above 
the horizon, shed their sweet influence in the east ; 
Lyra sparkled near the zenith ; Andromeda veiled her 
newly-discovered glories from the naked eye, in the 
south ; the steady pointers, far beneath the pole, looked 



40 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

meekly up from the depths of the north, to their sov- 
ereign. 

2. Such was the glorious spectacle as I entered the 
train. As we proceeded, the timid approach of twilight 
became more perceptible ; the intense blue of the sky- 
began to soften ; the smaller stars, like little children, 
went first to rest ; the sister beams of the Pleiades soon 
melted together ; but the bright constellations of the 
west and north remained unchanged. Steadily the won- 
drous transfiguration went on. Hands of angels, hidden 
from mortal eyes, shifted the scenery of the heavens ; 
the glories of night dissolved into the glories of the 
dawn. 

3. The blue sky now turned more softly gray ; the 
great watch-stars shut up their holy eyes ; the east 
began to kindle. Faint streaks of purple soon blushed 
along the sky ; the w r hole celestial concave was filled 
with the inflowing tides of the morning light, which 
came pouring down from above in one great ocean of 
radiance ; till at length, as we reached the Blue Hills, a 
flash of purple fire blazed out from above the horizon, and 
turned the dewy tear-drops of flower and leaf into rubies 
and diamonds. In a few seconds, the everlasting gates 
of the morning were thrown wide open, and the lord of 
day, arrayed in glories too severe for the gaze of man, 
began his state. 

Count that day lost whose low-descending sun 
Views from thy hand no worthy action done. 



ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD. 41 



XVI. — EXTRACT FROM ELEGY WRITTEN IN A 
COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD. 

Thomas Gray; 1716-1771. 

1. The curfew tolls the knell of parting day ; 

The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea ; 
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, 
And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 

2. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, 

And all the air a solemn stillness holds, 
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, 
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds ; 

3. Save that, from yonder ivy-mantled tower, 

The moping owl does to the moon complain 
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, 
Molest her ancient solitary reign. 

4. Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, 

Where heaves the turf in many a moldering heap, 
Each in his narrow cell forever laid, 

The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 

5. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, 

The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, 
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, 
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 

6. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, 

Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; 



42 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

No children run to lisp their sire's return, 
Or climb his knees, the envied kiss to share. 

7. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, 

Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke ; 
How jocund did they drive their team afield ! 

How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke ! 

8. Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, 

Their homely joys and destiny obscure ; 
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile 
The short and simple annals of the poor. 

9. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 

And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, 
Await alike th' inevitable hour : — 

The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 



XVII. — SHERIDAN'S RIDE. 

Thomas Buchanan Read; 1822- 

1. Up from the South at break of day, 
Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, 
The affrighted air with a shudder bore, 
Like a herald in haste to the chieftain's door, 
The terrible grumble, and rumble, and roar, 
Telling the battle was on once more, 
And Sheridan twenty miles away. 



SHERIDAN S RIDE. 43 

2. And wider still those billows of war 
Thundered along the horizon's bar, 
And louder yet into Winchester rolled 
The roar of that red sea uncontrolled, 
Making the blood of the listener cold 

As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray, 
And Sheridan tw r enty miles away. 

3. But there is a road from Winchester town, 
A good, broad highway leading down ; 

And there, through the flush of the morning light, 

A steed, as black as the steeds of night, 

Was seen to pass as with eagle flight. 

As if he knew the terrible need, 

He stretched away with his utmost speed ; 

Hill rose and fell ; but his heart was gay, 

With Sheridan fifteen miles away. 

4. Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering 

south, 
The dust, like smoke from the cannon's mouth, 
Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster, 
Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster; 
The heart of the steed and the heart of the master 
Were beating like prisoners assaulting their walls, 
Impatient to be where the battle-field calls ; 
Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play, 
With Sheridan only ten miles away. 

5. Under his spurning feet, the road, 
Like an arrowy Alpine river, flowed, 



44 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

And the landscape sped away behind, 
Like an ocean flying before the wind ; 
And the steed, with his wild eyes full of fire, 
Swept on to the goal of his heart's desire : 
He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray, 
With Sheridan only five miles away. 

6. The first that the general saw were the groups 
Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops. 
What was done — what to do — a glance told him 

both ; 
Then striking his spurs, with a muttered oath, 
He dashed down the line 'mid a storm of huzzas. 
The sight of the master compelled them to pause. 
With foam and with dust the black charger was 

gray; 
By the flash of his eye, and his red nostril's play, 
He seemed to the whole great army to say, 
" I have brought you Sheridan all the way 
From Winchester down to save the day ! " 

7. Hurrah ! hurrah for Sheridan ! 
Hurrah ! hurrah for horse and man ! 

And when their statues are placed on high, 
Under the dome of the Union sky, 
The American soldiers' Temple of Fame, 
There, with the glorious general's name, 
Be it said, in letters bold and bright : 

" Here is the steed that saved the day 
By carrying Sheridan into the fight, 

From Winchester — twenty miles away ! " 



RULES FOR READING. 45 



XVIII. — RULES FOR READING. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson ; 1 803-1 882. 

1. Be sure, then, to read no mean books. Shun the 
spawn of the press on the gossip of the hour. Do not 
read what you shall learn without asking in the street 
and the train. Dr. Johnson said "he always went into 
stately shops " ; and good travelers stop at the best 
hotels, for though they cost more, they do not cost 
much more, and there is the good company and the 
best information. In like manner, the scholar knows 
that the famed books contain, first and last, the best 
thoughts and facts. Now and then, by rarest luck, in 
some foolish grub street is the gem we want. But in 
the best circles is the best information. If you should 
transfer the amount of your reading day by day from 
the newspaper to the standard authors, — but who dare 
speak of such a thing ? 

2. The three practical rules, then, which I have to offer 
are : ist. Never read any book that is not a year old. 
2d. Never read any but famed books. 3d. Never read 
any but what you like ; or, in Shakespeare's phrase, — 

" No profit goes where is no pleasure ta'en : 
In brief, sir, study what you most affect. "' 

Montaigne says, " Books are a languid pleasure " ; 
but I find certain books vital and spermatic, not leaving 
the reader what he was ; he shuts the book a richer 
man. I would never willingly read any others than 
such. 



46 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 



XIX. — THE WILL AND THE WAY. 

John G. Saxe; 1816- 

1. It was a noble Roman, 

In Rome's imperial day, 
Who heard a coward croaker, 

Before the battle, say : 
" They 're safe in such a fortress ; 

There is no way to shake it — " 
" On ! on ! " exclaimed the hero, 

" I '11 find a way, or make it ! " 

2. Is fame your aspiration ? 

Her path is steep and high ; 
In vain he seeks the temple, 

Content to gaze and sigh ! 
The shining throne is waiting, 

But he alone can take it 
Who says, with Roman firmness, 

" I '11 find a way, or make it." 

3. Is learning your ambition ? 

There is no royal road ; 
Alike the peer and peasant 

Must climb to her abode. 
Who feels the thirst for knowledge, 

In Helicon may slake it, 
If he has still the Roman will 

To " find a way, or make it ! " 



CATILINE S DEFIANCE. 47 

4. Are riches worth the getting ? 

They must be bravely sought ; 
With wishing and with fretting 

The boon can not be bought. 
To all the prize is open, 

But only he can take it 
Who says, with Roman courage, 

" I '11 find a way, or make it ! " 

XX. — CATILINE'S DEFIANCE. 

Croly's Catiline. 

1. "Banished from Rome!" — What's banished, but 

set free 
From daily contact of the things I loathe ? 
" Tried and convicted traitor ! " — Who says this ? 
Who '11 prove it, at his peril, on my head ? 
" Banished ! " — I thank you for 't. It breaks my 

chain ! 
I held some slack allegiance till this hour ; 
But now my sword 's my own. Smile on, my lords; 
I scorn to count what feelings, withered hopes, 
Strong provocations, bitter, burning wrongs, 
I have within my heart's hot cell shut up, 
To leave you in your lazy dignities. 

2. But here I stand and scoff you ; here I fling 
Hatred and full defiance in your face. 



48 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

Your consul 's merciful. For this all thanks. 

He dares not touch a hair of Catiline. 

" Traitor ! " I go — but I return. This — trial ! 

Here I devote your senate ! I 've had wrongs, 

To stir a fever in the blood of age, 

Or make the infant's sinews strong as steel. 

3. This day 's the birth of sorrows ! — This hour's 

work 
Will breed proscriptions. Look to your hearths, 

my lords, 
For there henceforth shall sit, for household gods, 
Shapes hot from Tartarus ! — all shames and 

crimes ; — 
Wan Treachery, with his thirsty dagger drawn ; 
Suspicion, poisoning his brother's cup ; 
Naked Rebellion, with the torch and axe, 
Making his wild sport of your blazing thrones ; . 
Till Anarchy comes down on you like night, 
And Massacre seals Rome's eternal grave. 

XX!. — THE AMERICAN FLAG. 

Joseph Rodman Drake; 1795-1820. 

I. When Freedom, from her mountain height, 
Unfurled her standard to the air, 
She tore the azure robe of night, 
And set the stars of glory there ; 



THE AMERICAN FLAG. 

She mingled with its gorgeous dyes 
The milky baldric of the skies, 
And striped its pure, celestial w; 
With streakings of the morning light ; 
Then, from his mansion in the sun, 
She called her eagle bearer down, 
And gave into his mighty hand 
The symbol of her chosen land. 

2. Majestic monarch of the cloud, — 

Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, 
To hear the tempest-trumpings loud, 
And see the lightning lances driven, 

When strive the warriors of the storm, 
And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven, — 
Child of the sun ! to thee 'tis given 

To guard the banner of the free, 
To hover in th uir smoke, 

To ward away the battle stroke, 
And bid it* Mendings shine afar, 
Like rainbows on the cloud of war, — 

The harbingers of victory ! 

3. Flag of the brave ! thy folds shall fly, 
The sign of hope and triumph high, 
When speaks the signal trumpet tone, 
And the long line comes gleaming on. 
Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet, 
Has dimmed the glistening bayonet, 
Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn, 
To where thy sky-born glories burn ; 



5<0 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

And, as his springing steps advance, 
Catch war and vengeance from the glance ; 
And when the cannon-mouthings loud 
Heave in wild wreaths the battle-shroud, 
And gory sabres rise and fall 
Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall, 
Then shall thy meteor glances glow, 

And cowering foes shall sink beneath 
Each gallant arm that strikes below 

That lovely messenger of death. 

4. Flag of the seas ! on ocean wave 
Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave ; 
When death, careering on the gale, 
Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail, 
And frighted waves rush wildly back 
Before the broadside's reeling rack, 
Each dying wanderer of the sea 
Shall look at once to heaven and thee, 
And smile to see thy splendors fly 

In triumph o'er his closing eye. 

5. Flag of the free heart's hope and home, — 

By angel hands to valor given ! 
Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, 

And all thy hues were born in heaven. 
Forever float that standard sheet ! 

Where breathes the foe but falls before us, 
With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, 

And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us ! 



THE AMERICAN WAR. 5 1 

XXII.— THE AMERICAN WAR. 

William Pitt, Earl of Chatham; 1708-1778. 

1. I can not, my lords, I will not, join in congratula- 
tion on misfortune and disgrace. This, my lords, is a 
perilous and tremendous moment. It is not a time for 
adulation. The smoothness of flattery can not save us 
in this rugged and awful crisis. It is now necessary to 
instruct the throne in the language of truth. We must, 
if possible, dispel the allusion and the darkness which 
envelop it, and display, in its full danger and genuine 
colors, the ruin which is brought to our doors. 

2. Can ministers still presume to expect support in 
their infatuation? Can- Parliament be so dead to its 
dignity and duty, as to give their support to measures 
thus obtruded and forced upon them ? Measures, my 
lords, which have reduced this late flourishing empire to 
ruin and contempt ! But yesterday, and England might 
have stood against the world ; now, none so poor as to 
do her reverence. 

3. The people whom we at first despised as rebels, 
but whom we now acknowledge as enemies, are abetted 
against us ; supplied with every military store, their 
interest consulted and their ambassadors entertained by 
our inveterate enemy ! — and ministers do not, and dare 
not, interpose with dignity or effect. The desperate 
state of our army abroad is in part known. No man 
more highly esteems and honors the English troops 



52 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

than I do ; I know their virtues and their valor ; I know 
they can achieve anything but impossibilities ; and I 
know that the conquest of English America is an im- 
possibility. 

4. You can not, my lords, you can not conquer Amer- 
ica. What is your present situation there ? We do 
not know the worst ; but we know that in three cam- 
paigns we have done nothing, and suffered much. You 
may swell every expense, accumulate every assistance, 
and extend your traffic to the shambles of every despot ; 
your attempts will be forever vain and impotent — 
doubly so, indeed, from this mercenary aid on which 
you rely ; for it irritates, to an incurable resentment, 
the minds of your adversaries, to overrun them with the 
mercenary sons of rapine and plunder, devoting them 
and their possessions to the rapacity of hireling cruelty. 
If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a 
foreign troop was landed in my country, I never would 
lay down my arms — never, never, never ! 

5. But, my lords, who is the man that, in addition to 
the disgrace and mischiefs of the war, ha*s dared to 
authorize and associate to our arms the tomahawk and 
scalping-knife of the savage? — to call into civilized 
alliance the wild and inhuman inhabitants of the woods ? 
— to delegate to the merciless Indian the defense of 
disputed rights, and to wage the horrors of his barbarous 
war against our brethren ? My lords, these enormities 
cry aloud for redress and punishment. 

6. But, my lords, this barbarous measure has been 
defended, not only on the principles of policy and neces- 



THE AMERICAN WAR. 53 

sity, but also on those of morality ; "for it is perfectly 
allowable," says Lord Suffolk, "to use all the means 
which God and Nature have put into our hands ! " I 
am astonished, I am shocked, to hear such principles 
confessed; to hear them avowed in this House, or in 
this country ! 

7. My lords, I did not intend to encroach so much 
upon your attention, but I can not repress my indigna- 
tion. I feel myself impelled to speak. My lords, we 
are called upon as members of this House, as men, as 
Christian men, to protest against such horrible barbarity. 
"That God and Nature have put into our hands!" 
What ideas of God and Nature that noble lord may 
entertain, I know not ; but I know that such detest- 
able principles are equally abhorrent to religion and 
humanity. 

8. What ! to attribute the sacred sanction of God and 
Nature to the massacres of the Indian scalping-knife ! 

— to the cannibal savage, torturing, murdering, devour- 
ing, drinking the blood of his mangled victims ! Such 
notions shock every precept of morality, every feeling 
of humanity, every sentiment of honor. These abom- 
inable principles, and this more abominable avowal of 
them, demand the most decisive indignation. 

9. I call upon that right reverend, and this most 
learned bench, to vindicate the religion of their God, to 
support the justice of their country. I call upon the 
bishops to interpose the unsullied sanctity of their lawn ; 

— upon the judges to interpose the purity of their 
ermine, to save us from this pollution. I call upon the 



54 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

honor of your lordships to reverence the dignity of your 
ancestors, and maintain your own. I call upon the 
spirit and humanity of my country to vindicate the 
national character. 

XXIII. — THE HERITAGE. 

James Russell Lowell; 1815- 

1. The rich man's son inherits lands, 

And piles of brick and stone and gold ; 
And he inherits soft, white hands, 
And tender flesh that fears the cold, 
Nor dares to wear a garment old ; — 
A heritage, it seems to me, 
One would not care to hold in fee. 

2. The rich man's son inherits cares ; 

The bank may break, the factory burn ; 
Some breath may burst his bubble shares ; 
And soft, white hands would hardly earn 
A living that would suit his turn ; — 
A heritage, it seems to me, 
One would not care to hold in fee. 

3. The rich man's son inherits wants ; 

His stomach craves for dainty fare ; 
With sated heart he hears the pants 
Of toiling hinds with brown arms bare, 
And wearies in his easy-chair ; — ■ 
A heritage, it seems to me, 
One would not care to hold in fee. 



THE HERITAGE. 55 

4. What does the poor man's son inherit ? 

Stout muscles and a sinewy heart ; 
A hardy frame, a hardier spirit ; 

King of two hands, he does his part 

In every useful toil and art ; — 
A heritage, it seems to me, 
A king might wish to hold in fee. 

5. What does the poor man's son inherit ? 

Wishes o'erjoyed with humble things ; 
A rank adjudged by toil-worn merit ; 

Content that from employment springs ; 

A heart that in his labor sings ; — 
A heritage, it seems to me, 
A king might wish to hold in fee. 

6. What does the poor man's son inherit ? 

A patience learned by being poor ; 

Courage, if sorrow comes, to bear it ; 
A fellow-feeling that is sure 
To make the outcast bless his door; — 

A heritage, it seems to me, 

A king might wish to hold in fee. 

7. O rich man's son ! there is a toil 

That with all other level stands ; 
Large charity doth never soil, 

But only whitens, soft, white hands ; 

That is the best crop from the lands ; — 
A heritage, it seems to me, 
Worth being rich to hold in fee. 



56 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

8. O poor man's son, scorn not thy state ! 

There is worse weariness than thine, 
In merely being rich and great ; 

Work only makes the soul to shine, 
And makes rest fragrant and benign ; • 
A heritage, it seems to me, 
Worth being poor to hold in fee. 

9. Both, heirs to some six feet of sod, 

Are equal in the earth at last ; 
Both children of the same dear God ; 
Prove title to your heirship vast, 
By record of a well-filled past ; — ■ 
A heritage, it seems to me, 
Well worth a life to hold in fee. 



XXIV. — SOUTH CAROLINA AND MASSACHUSETTS. 

From Webster's " Reply to Hayne." 

I. The eulogium pronounced by the honorable gen- 
tleman on the character of the state of South Carolina, 
for her Revolutionary and other merits, meets my 
hearty concurrence. I shall not acknowledge that the 
honorable member goes before me in regard for what- 
ever of distinguished talent or distinguished character 
South Carolina has produced. I claim part of the honor, 
I partake in the pride, of her great names. I claim 
them for countrymen, one and all — the Laurenses, the 



SOUTH CAROLINA AND MASSACHUSETTS. 57 

Rutledges, the Pinckneys, the Sumters, the Marions — 
Americans all, whose fame is no more to be hemmed 
in by state lines, than their talents and patriotism were 
capable of being circumscribed within the same narrow 
limits. 

2. In their day and generation, they served and hon- 
ored the country, and the whole country ; and their 
renown is of the treasures of the whole country. Him 
whose honored name the gentleman himself bears — 
does he esteem me less capable of gratitude for bis 
patriotism, or sympathy for his sufferings, than if his 
eyes had first opened upon the light of Massachusetts, 
instead of South Carolina ? Sir, does he suppose it in 
his power to exhibit a Carolina name so bright as to 
produce envy in my bosom ? Xo, sir ; increased grati- 
fication and delight, rather. I thank God, that, if I am 
gifted with little of the spirit which is able to raise 
mortals to the skies, I have yet none, as I trust, of that 
other spirit, which would drag angels clown. 

3. When I shall be found, sir, in my place here 
in the Senate, or elsewhere, to sneer at public merit , 
because it happens to spring up beyond the little limits 
of my own state or neighborhood ; when I refuse, for 
any such cause, or for any cause, the homage due to 
American talent, to elevated patriotism, to sincere de- 
votion to liberty and the country ; or if I see an uncom- 
mon endowment of Heaven — if I see extraordinary 
capacity and virtue in any son of the South, and if, 
moved by local prejudice or gangrened by state jeal- 
ousy, I get up here to abate the tithe of a hair from his 



58 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

just character and just fame — may my tongue cleave 
to the roof of my mouth ! 

4. Sir, let me recur to pleasing recollections, let me 
indulge in refreshing remembrances of the past ; let me 
remind you that, in early times, no states cherished 
greater harmony, both of principle and feeling, than 
Massachusetts and South Carolina. Would to God 
that harmony might again return ! Shoulder to shoul- 
der they went through the Revolution, hand in hand 
they stood round the administration of Washington, 
and felt his own great arm lean on them for support. 
Unkind feeling, if it exist, alienation and distrust, are 
the growth, unnatural to such soils, of false principles 
since sown. They are weeds, the seeds of which that 
same great arm never scattered. 

5. Mr. President, I shall enter on no encomium upon 
Massachusetts ; she needs none. There she is. Behold 
her, and judge for yourselves. There is her history; 
the world knows it by heart. The past, at least, is 
secure. There is Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, 
and Bunker Hill; and there they will remain forever. 
The bones of her sons, fallen in the great struggle for 
Independence, now lie mingled with the soil of every 
state, from New England to Georgia ; and there they 
will lie forever. 

6. And, sir, where American Liberty raised its first 
voice, and where its youth was nurtured and sustained, 
there it still lives, in the strength of its manhood, and 
full of its original spirit. If discord and disunion shall 
wound it ; if party strife and blind ambition shall hawk 



POLISH WAR-SONG. 59 

at and tear it ; if folly and madness, if uneasiness under 
salutary and necessary restraint, shall succeed in separa- 
ting it from that Union by which alone its existence is 
made sure, — it will stand, in the end, by the side of 
that cradle in which its infancy was rocked ; it will 
stretch forth its arm, with whatever of vigor it may 
still retain, over the friends who gather round it ; and 
it will fall at last, if fall it must, amid the proudest 
monuments of its own glory, and on the very spot of 
its origin. 

XXV.— POLISH WAR-SONG. 

James G. Percival; 1795-1856. 

1. Freedom calls you ! Quick, be ready ! 
Rouse ye in the name of God ! 
Onward, onward ! strong and steady, — 
Dash to earth the oppressor's rod. 

Freedom calls ! ye brave, 

Rise, and spurn the name of slave ! 

2. Grasp the sword ! — its edge is keen ; — 
Seize the gun ! — its ball is true : 
Sweep your land from tyrant clean, — 
Haste, and scour it through and through ! 

Onward, onward ! Freedom cries, 
Rush to arms, — the tyrant flies ! 

30 By the souls of patriots gone, 

Wake, — arise, — your fetters break ! 



60 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

Kosciusko bids you on, — 
Sobieski cries, Awake ! 

Rise, and front the despot czar ! 

Rise, and dare the unequal war ! 

4. Freedom calls you ! Quick, be ready ! 
Think of what your sires have been ! 
Onward, onward ! strong and steady, — 
Drive the tyrant to his den. 

On, and let the watchwords be — 
. Country, home, and liberty ! 



o'^c 



XXVI.— THE SLEIGH-RIDE; OR, TWO WAYS OF 
TELLING A STORY. 

H. K. Oliver; 1800-1885. 

I. In one of the most populous cities of New Eng- 
land, a few years since, a party of lads, all members of 
the same school, got up a grand sleigh-ride. There 
were about twenty-five or thirty boys engaged in the 
frolic. The sleigh was a very large and splendid estab- 
lishment, drawn by six gray horses. The afternoon was 
as beautiful as anybody could desire, and the merry 
group enjoyed themselves in the highest degree. It 
was a common custom of the school to which they 
belonged, and on previous occasions their teacher had 
accompanied them. Some engagement upon important 
business, however, occupying him, he was not at this 
time with them. It is quite likely had it been other- 



THE SLEIGH-RIDE. 6 1 

wise, that the restraining influence of his presence would 
have prevented the scene which is the main feature of 
the present story. 

2. On the day following the ride, as he entered the 
schoolroom, he found his pupils grouped about the 
stove, and in high merriment, as they chatted about 
the fun and frolic of their excursion. He stopped a 
while and listened ; and in answer to some inquiries 
which he made about the matter, one of the lads — a 
fine, frank, and manly boy, whose heart was in the right 
place, though his love of sport sometimes led him astray 
— volunteered to give a narrative of their trip and its 
various incidents. 

3. As he drew near the end of his story, he ex- 
claimed, " Oh, sir! there was one little circumstance 
which I had almost forgotten to tell you. Toward the 
latter part of the afternoon, as we were returning home, 
we saw, at some distance ahead of us, a queer-looking 
affair in the road. We could not exactly make out what 
it was. It seemed to be a sort of half-and-half mon- 
strosity. As we approached it, it proved to be a rusty 
old sleigh, fastened behind a covered wagon, proceeding 
at a very slow rate, and taking up the whole road. 

4. " Finding that the owner was not disposed to turn 
out, we determined upon a volley of snowballs and a 
good hurrah. These we gave with a relish, and they 
produced the right effect, and a little more, for the 
crazy machine turned out into the deep snow, by the 
side of the road, and the skinny old pony started on a 
full trot. As we passed, some one who had the whip 



62 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

gave the old jilt of a horse a good crack, which made 
him run faster than he ever did before, I '11 warrant. 
And so, with another volley of snowballs pitched into 
the front of the wagon, and three times three cheers, 
we rushed by. 

5. "With that, an old fellow in the wagon, who was 
buried up under an old hat and beneath a rusty cloak, 
and who had dropped the reins, bawled out, ' Why do 
you frighten my horse?' 'Why don't you turn out, 
then ? ' says the driver. So we gave him three rousing 
cheers more ; his horse was frightened again, and ran 
up against a loaded team, and, I believe, almost cap- 
sized the old creature — and so we left him. ,, 

6. "Well, boys," replied the instructor, "that is quite 
an incident. But take your seats, and after our morn- 
ing service is ended, I will take my turn and tell you a 
story, and all about a sleigh-ride, too/' 

Having finished the reading of a chapter in the Bible, 
and after all had joined in the Lord's prayer, he com- 
menced as follows : — 

7. "Yesterday afternoon, a very venerable and re- 
spectable old man, and a clergyman by profession, was 
on his way from Boston to Salem, to pass the residue 
of the winter at the house of his son. That he might 
be prepared for journeying, as he proposed to do in the 
spring, he took with him his light wagon, and, for the 
winter, his sleigh, which he fastened behind the wagon. 
He was, just as I have told you, very old and infirm ; 
his temples were covered with thinned locks, which the 
frosts of eighty years had whitened ; his sight and 



THE SLEIGH-RIDE. 63 

hearing, too, were somewhat blunted by age, as yours 
will be should you live to be as old. He was proceed- 
ing very slowly and quietly, for his horse was old and 
feeble, like his owner. His thoughts reverted to the 
scenes of his youth, when he had periled his life in 
fighting for the liberties of his country ; to the scenes 
of his manhood, when he had preached the Gospel of 
his divine Master to the heathen of the remote wilder- 
ness ; and to the scenes of riper years, when the hard 
hand of penury had been laid heavily upon him. 

8. "While thus occupied, almost forgetting himself 
in the multitude of his thoughts, he was suddenly dis- 
turbed, and even terrified, by loud hurrahs from behind, 
and by a furious pelting and clattering of balls of snow 
and ice upon the top of his wagon. In his trepidation 
he dropped his reins ; and, as his aged and feeble hands 
were quite benumbed with cold, he found it impossible 
to gather them up, and his horse began to run away. 

9. " In the midst of the old man's trouble there 
rushed by him, with loud shouts, a large party of boys, 
in a sleigh drawn by six horses. ' Turn out, turn out, 
old fellow ! ' — ' Give us the road, old boy ! ' — < What '11 
you take for your pony, old daddy ? ' — 'Go it, frozen 
nose ! ' — ' What 's the price of oats ? ' were the various 
cries that met his ear. 

" ' Pray do not frighten my horse,' exclaimed the 
infirm driver. 

" ' Turn out, then ! turn out ! ' was the answer, which 
was followed by repeated cracks and blows from the 
long whip of the ' grand sleigh,' with showers of snow- 



64 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

balls, and three tremendous huzzas from the boys who 
were in it. 

10. " The terror of the old man and his horse was 
increased, and the latter ran away with him, to the 
imminent danger of his life. He contrived, however,. 
after some exertion, to secure his reins, which had been 
out of his hands during the whole of the affray, and to 
stop his horse just in season to prevent his being dashed 
against a loaded team. 

11. "As he approached Salem, he overtook a young 
man who was walking toward the same place, and whom 
he invited to ride. The young man alluded to the ' grand 
sleigh ' which had just passed, which induced the old 
gentleman to inquire if he knew who the boys were. 
He replied that he did — that they all belonged to one 
school, and were a set of wild fellows. 

" ' Aha ! ' exclaimed the former, with a hearty laugh 
(for his constant good nature had not been disturbed), 
' do they, indeed ! Why, their master is very well 
known to me. I am now going to his house, and I 
rather think I shall give him the benefit of this whole 
story.' 

12. "A short distance brought him to his journey's 
end, — the house of his son. His old horse was com- 
fortably housed and fed, and he himself abundantly 
provided for. 

" That son, boys, is your instructor ; and that aged 
and infirm old man, that ' old fellow ' and * old boy ' 
(who did not turn out for you, but who would have 
gladly given you the whole road had he heard your 



THE WINGED WORSHIPERS. 65 

approach), that ' old boy' and ' old daddy 1 and 'old 
frozen nose ' was your master's father ! " 

13. It is not easy to describe, nor to imagine, the 
effect produced by this new translation of the boy's 
own narrative. Some buried their heads behind their 
desks ; some cried ; some looked askant at each other ; 
and many hastened down to the desk of the teacher 
with apologies, regrets, and acknowledgments without 
end. All were freely pardoned, but were cautioned 
that they should be more civil for the future to inof- 
fensive travelers, and more respectful to the aged and 
infirm. 

•& &: •& ^& ■SJf' ^Gr •$£■ -^ 

14. Years have passed by. The lads are men, though 
some have found an early grave : the " manly boy" is 
"in the deep bosom of the ocean buried." They who 
survive, should this story meet their eye, will easily 
recall its scenes, and throw their memories back to the 
" Schoolhouse in Federal Street," and to their old friend 
and well-wisher, the teacher. 

»O^Oo 

XXVII. — THE WINGED WORSHIPERS. 

Charles Sprague; 1791-1874. 

I. Gay, guiltless pair, 

What seek ye from the fields of heaven ? 

Ye have no need of prayer, 
Ye have no sins to be forgiven. 



66 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

2. Why perch ye here, 

Where mortals to their Maker bend? 

Can your pure spirits fear 
The God ye never could offend ? 

3. Ye never knew 

The crimes for which we come to weep ; 

Penance is not for you, 
Blessed wanderers of the upper deep. 

4. To you 'tis given 

To wake sweet nature's untaught lays ; 

Beneath the arch of heaven 
To chirp away a life of praise. 

5. Then spread each wing 

Far, far above, o'er lakes and lands, 

And join the choirs that sing 
In yon blue dome not reared with hands. 

6. Or, if ye stay, 

To note the consecrated hour, 

Teach me the airy way, 
And let me try your envied power. 

7. Above the crowd 

On upward wings could I but fly, 

I 'd bathe in yon bright cloud, 
And seek the stars that gem the sky. 

8. 'Twere heaven indeed 

Through fields of trackless light to soar, 

On nature's charms to feed, 
And nature's own great God adore. 



THOUGHTS ON POLITENESS. 6j 

XXVIII.— THOUGHTS ON POLITENESS. 

George S. Hillard; 1808-1879. 

1. Of the gentlemen, young and old, whiskered and 
un whiskered, that may be seen in Washington Street 
any sunshiny day, there is not one who does not think 
himself a polite man, and who would not very much 
resent any insinuation to the contrary. Their opinion 
is grounded on reasons something like the following. 
When they go to a party, they make a low bow to the 
mistress of the house, and then look round after some- 
body that is young and pretty to make themselves 
agreeable to. 

2. At a ball they will do their utmost to entertain 
their partner, unless the fates have given them to some 
one who is ugly and awkward ; and they will listen to 
her remarks with their most bland expression. If they 
are invited to a dinner party, they go in their best 
coats, praise their entertainer's wine, and tell the lady 
they hope her children are all well. If they tread on the 
toes of a well-dressed person, they will beg his pardon. 
They never spit on a carpet ; and in walking with a 
lady, they always give her the inside; and, if the prac- 
tice be allowable, they offer her their arm. 

3. So far, very good ; but I must always see a man 
in certain situations before I decide whether he be polite 
or not. I should like to see how he would act if placed 
at dinner between an ancient maiden lady and a coun- 
try clergyman with a small salary and a rusty coat, and 



68 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

with some distinguished person opposite to him. I 
want to see him on a hot and dusty day, sitting on the 
back seat of a stage-coach, when the driver takes in 
some poor lone woman, with maybe a child in her 
arms, and tells the gentleman that one of them must 
ride outside and make room for her. 

4. I want to be near him when his washerwoman 
makes some very good excuse to him for not bringing 
home his clothes at the usual time, or not doing up an 
article in exactly the style he wished. I want to hear 
the tone and emphasis with which he gives orders to 
servants in steamboats and taverns. I mark his con- 
duct when he is walking with an umbrella on a rainy 
day, and overtakes an old man, or an invalid, or a decent- 
looking woman, who are exposed, without protection, to 
the violence of the storm. If he be in company with 
those whom he thinks his inferiors, I listen to hear if his 
conversation be entirely about himself. If some of the 
number be very distinguished, and some quite un- 
known, I observe whether he acts as if he were utterly 
unconscious of the presence of these last. 

5. These are a few, and but a few, of the tests by 
which I try a man ; and I am sorry to say there are 
very few who can stand them all. There is many a 
one who passes in the world for a well-bred man, be- 
cause he knows when to bow and smile, that is down 
in my tablets for a selfish, vulgar, impolite monster, 
that loves the parings of his own nails better than his 
neighbor's whole body. Pat any man in a situation 
where he is called upon to make a sacrifice of his own 



THE CORAL GROVE. 6q 

comfort and ease without any equivalent in return, and 
you wiii iearn the difference between true politeness, 
that sterling ore of the heart, and the counterfeit imi- 
tation of it, which passes current in drawing-rooms. 

XXIX. — THE CORAL GROVE. 

James G. Percival; 1795-1856. • 

Deep in the wave is a coral grove, 

Where the purple mullet and gold-fish rove ; 

Where the sea-flower spreads its leaves of blue, 

That never are wet with the falling dew, 

But in bright and changeful beauty shine, 

Far down in the green and glassy brine. 

The floor is of sand, like the mountain drift, 

And the pearl-shells spangle the flinty snow; 

From coral rocks, the sea-plants lift 

Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow. 

The water is calm and still below, 

For the winds and waves are absent there, 

And the sands are bright as the stars that glow 

In the motionless fields of upper air. 

There, with its waving blade of green, 

The sea-flag streams through the silent water, 

And the crimson leaf of the dulse is seen 

To blush like a banner bathed in slaughter. 

There, with a light and easy motion, 

The fan-coral sweeps through the clear, deep sea, 



yO STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean 
Are bending like corn on the upland lea ; 
And life, in rare and beautiful forms, 
Is sporting amid those bowers of stone. 

XXX. — THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM. 

m Jane Taylor; 1783-1824. 

1. An old clock, that had stood for fifty years in a 
farmer's kitchen without giving its owner any cause of 
complaint, early one summer's morning, before the 
family was stirring, suddenly stopped. 

2. Upon this, the dial-plate (if we may credit the 
fable) changed countenance with alarm ; the hands 
made an ineffectual effort to continue their course ; 
the wheels remained motionless with surprise ; the 
weights hung speechless ; each member felt disposed 
to lay the blame on the others. At length the dial 
instituted a formal inquiry as to the cause of the 
stagnation ; when hands, wheels, weights, with one 
voice, protested their innocence. 

3. But now a faint tick was heard below, from the 
pendulum, who thus spoke : — 

" I confess myself to be the sole cause of the present 
stoppage, and am willing, for the general satisfaction, 
to assign my reasons. The truth is, that I am tired of 
ticking." Upon hearing this, the old clock became so 
enraged that it was on the point of striking. 



THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM. Jl 

" Lazy wire!" exclaimed the dial-plate, holding up 
its hands. 

4. " Very good," replied the pendulum; "it is vastly 
easy for you, Mistress Dial, who have always, as every- 
body knows, set yourself up above me, — it is vastly 
easy for you, I say, to accuse other people of laziness ; 
you, who have had nothing to do all the days of your 
life but to stare people in the face, and to amuse 
yourself with watching all that goes en in the kitchen. 
Think, I beseech you, how you would like to be shut 
up for life in this dark closet, and wag backwards and 
forwards, year after year, as I do." 

5. "As to that," said the dial, "is there not a window 
in your house on purpose for you to look through ? " 

"For all that," resumed the pendulum, "it is very 
dark here ; and although there is a window, I dare not 
stop, even for an instant, to look out. Besides, I am 
really weary of my way of life ; and if you please, I '11 
tell you how I took this disgust at my employment. 
This morning I happened to be calculating how many 
times I should have to tick in the course only of the 
next twenty-four hours ; perhaps some of you above 
there can give me the exact sum." 

6. The minute-hand, being quick at figures, instantly 
replied, "eighty-six thousand four hundred times." 

" Exactly so," replied the pendulum. " Well, I appeal 
to you all if the thought of this was not enough to 
fatigue one. And when I began to multiply the strokes 
of one day by those of months and years, really it is 
no wonder if I felt discouraged at the prospect : so, 



/2 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

after a great deal of reasoning and hesitation, thinks I 
to myself, I '11 stop." 

7. The dial could scarcely keep its countenance during 
this harangue ; but, resuming its gravity, thus replied : — 

" Dear Mr. Pendulum, I am really astonished that so 
useful and industrious a person as you are should have 
been overcome by this sudden suggestion. It is true 
you have done a great deal of work in your time. So 
have we all, and are likely to do. Would you, now, do 
me the favor to give about half-a-dozen strokes, to illus- 
trate my argument ? " 

8. The pendulum complied, and ticked six times at 
its usual pace. "Now," resumed the dial, "may I be 
allowed to inquire if that exertion was at all fatiguing 
or disagreeable to you ? " 

"Not in the least," replied the pendulum; "it is 
not of six strokes that I complain, nor of sixty, but 
of millions." 

"Very good," replied the dial; "but recollect that 
although you may think of a million strokes in an 
instant, you are required to execute but one ; and that, 
however often you may hereafter have to swing, a 
moment will always be given you to swing in." 

"That consideration staggers me, I confess," said 
the pendulum. 

"Then I hope," resumed the dial-plate, "we shall all 
immediately return to our duty ; for the maids will lie 
in bed till noon if we stand idling thus." 

9. Upon this, the weights, who had never been ac- 
cused of light conduct, used all their influence in urg- 



INDEPENDENCE BELL. 



73 



ing him to proceed ; when, as with one consent, the 
wheels began to turn, the hands began to move, the 
pendulum began to wag, and, to its credit, ticked 
as loud as ever ; and a beam of the rising sun that 
streamed through a hole in the kitchen shutter, shining 
full upon the dial-plate, it brightened up as if nothing 
had been the matter. 

When the farmer came down to breakfast that morn- 
ing, upon looking at the clock he declared that his 
watch had gained half an hour in the night. 



XXXI. - INDEPENDENCE BELL — JULY 4, 1776. 

" When it was certain that the ' Declaration ' would be adopted and con- 
firmed by the signatures of the delegates in Congress, it was determined to 
announce the event by ringing the old State House bell, which bore the 
inscription, ' Proclaim liberty throughout the land, to all the inhabitants 
thereof! ' and the old bellman posted his little boy at the door of the hall 
to await the instruction of the doorkeeper when to ring. At the word, the 
little patriot scion rushed out, and flinging up his hands, shouted, ' Ring ! 
Ring!! RING! ! ! '" 

I. There was tumult in the city, 

In the quaint old Quaker town, 
And the streets were rife with people 

Pacing restless up and down ; 
People gathering at corners, 

Where they whispered each to each, 
And the sweat stood on their temples, 

With the earnestness of speech. 



74 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

2. As the bleak Atlantic currents 

Lash the wild Newfoundland shore, 
So they beat against the State House, 

So they surged against the door ; 
And the mingling of their voices 

Made a harmony profound, 
Till the quiet street of chestnuts 

Was all turbulent with sound. 

3. " Will they do it ? " " Dare they do it ? " 

" Who is speaking ? " " What's the news ? " 
" What of Adams ? " " What of Sherman ? " 

" O, God grant they won't refuse ! " 
" Make some way, there ! " " Let me nearer ! " 

" I am stifling ! " " Stifle, then ; 
When a nation's life's at hazard, 

We 've no time to think of men ! " 

4. So they beat against the portal — 

Man and woman, maid and child ; 
And the July sun in heaven 

On the scene looked down and smiled ; 
The same sun that saw the Spartan 

Shed his patriot blood in vain, 
Now beheld the soul of freedom 

All unconquered rise again. 

5. Far aloft in that high steeple 

Sat the bellman, old and gray ; 
He was weary of the tyrant 
And his iron-sceptred sway ; 



INDEPENDENCE BELL. 75 

So he sat with one hand ready 

On the clapper of the bell, 
When his eye should catch the signal, 

Very happy news to tell. 

6. See ! see ! the dense crowd quivers 

Throughout all its lengthened line, 
As the boy beside the portal 

Hastens forth to give the sign ! 
With his little hands uplifted, 

Breezes dallying with his hair, 
Hark ! with deep, clear intonation, 

Breaks his young voice on the air. 

7. Hushed the people's swelling murmur, — 

List the boy's strong joyous cry ! 
"Ring ! " he shouts aloud ; " Ring ! Grandpa ! 

Ring ! O, Ring for LIBERTY ! " 
Quickly, at the given signal, 

The old bellman lifts his hand, 
Forth he sends the good news, making 

Iron music through the land. 

8. How they shouted ! What rejoicing ! 

How the old bell shook the air, 
Till the clang of freedom ruffled 

The calm, gliding Delaware ! 
How the bonfires and the torches 

Lighted up the night's repose, 
And from flames, like fabled Phoenix, 

Fair Liberty arose ! 



y6 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

9. That old State-House bell is silent, 

Hushed is now its clamorous tongue ; 
But the spirit it awakened 

Still is living, — ever young. 
And when we greet the smiling sunlight 

On the Fourth of each July, 
We will ne'er forget the bellman 

Who, betwixt the earth and sky, 
Rung out Our Independence ! 

Which, please God, shall never die ! 

XXXII.— HALLOWED GROUND. 

Thomas Campbell; 1 777-1 844. 

1. What 's hallowed ground ? Has earth a clod 
Its Maker meant not should be trod 

By man, the image of his God, 

Erect and free, 
Unscourged by Superstition's rod 

To bow the knee ? 

2. That 's hallowed ground — where, mourned and 

missed, 
The lips repose our love has kissed : — 
But where 's their memory's mansion ? Is 't 

Yon churchyard's bowers ? 
No ! in ourselves their souls exist, 

A part of ours. 



HALLOWED GROUND. JJ 

3. A kiss can consecrate the ground 
Where mated hearts are mutual bound ; 
The spot where love's first links were wound, 

That ne'er are riven, 
Is hallowed down to earth's profound, 
And up to heaven ! 

4. For time makes all but true love old ; 
The burning thoughts that then were told 
Run molten still in memory's mold ; 

And will not cool, 
Until the heart itself be cold 
In Lethe's pool. 

5. What hallows ground where heroes sleep? 
'Tis not the sculptured piles you heap ! 

In dews that heavens far distant weep 

Their turf may bloom ; 
Or Genii twine beneath the deep 

Their coral tomb. 

6. But strew his ashes to the wind 

Whose sword or voice has served mankind, 
And is he dead, whose glorious mind 

Lifts thine on high ? 
To live in hearts we leave behind 

Is not to die. 

7. Is 't death to fall for Freedom's right ? 
He 's dead alone that lacks her lis;ht ! 



78 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

And murder sullies in Heaven's sight 

The sword he draws : — 
What can alone ennoble fight ? 

A noble cause ! 

8. Give that ! and welcome War to brace 

Her drums ! and rend Heaven's reeking space ! 
The colors planted face to face, 

The charging cheer, 
Though Death's pale horse lead on the chase, 

Shall still be dear. 

9. And place our trophies where men kneel 

To Heaven ! — but Heaven rebukes mv zeal ! 
The cause of Truth and human weal, 

O God above ! 
Transfer it from the sword's appeal 

To Peace and Love. 



10. What's hallowed ground ? 'Tis what gives birth 
To sacred thoughts in souls of worth ! — 
Peace ! Independence ! Truth ! go forth 

Earth's compass round ; 
And your high priesthood shall make earth 
All hallowed ground. 



Fail! — fail? 
In the lexicon of youth, which Fate reserves 
For a bright manhood, there 's no such word 

As — fail. 



OF STUDIES. 79 



XXXIII. — OF STUDIES. 

Francis Bacon; i 561-1626. 

1. Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for 
ability. Their chief use for delight is in privateness 
and retiring ; for ornament, is in discourse ; and for 
ability, is in the judgment and disposition of business : 
for expert men can execute, and perhaps judge of par- 
ticulars, one by one ; but the general counsels, and the 
plots and marshaling of affairs come best from those 
that are learned. 

2. To spend too much time in studies, is sloth ; to use 
them too much for ornament, is affectation ; to make 
judgment wholly by their rules, is the humor of a 
scholar : they perfect nature, and are perfected by ex- 
perience ; for natural abilities are like natural plants, 
that need pruning by study ; and studies themselves do 
give forth directions too much at large, except they be 
bounded in by experience. 

3. Crafty men contemn studies, simple 1 men admire 
them, and wise men use them ; for they teach not their 
own use ; but that is a wisdom without them and above 
them, won by observation. Read not to contradict and 
confute, nor to believe and take for granted, nor to find 
talk and discourse, but to weigh and consider.' 

4. Some books are to be tasted, others to be swal- 
lowed, and some few to be chewed and digested ; that 

1 Simple, in old language, often means ignorant ox foolish. 



80 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

is, some books are to be read only in parts ; others to 
be read, but not curiously ; * and some few to be read 
wholly, and with diligence and attention. Some books 
also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of them 
by others ; but that would 2 be only in the less impor- 
tant arguments, and the meaner sort of books ; else dis- 
tilled books are, like common distilled waters, flashy 
things. 

5. Reading maketh a full man, conference 3 a ready 
man, and writing an exact man ; and therefore, if a man 
write little, he had need have a great memory ; if he 
confer little, he had need have a present wit ; 4 and if he 
read little, he had need have much cunning, to seem to 
know that he doth not. 

6. Histories make men wise ; poets, witty ; the math- 
ematics, subtile ; natural philosophy, deep ; moral, grave ; 
logic and rhetoric, able to contend : Abeunt studia in 
mores : h nay, there is no stand or impediment in the 
wit, but may be wrought out by fit studies : like as dis- 
eases of the body may have appropriate exercises. 

7. So, if a man 's wit be wandering, let him study the 
mathematics ; for in demonstrations, if his wit be called 
away never so little, he must begin again : if his wit be 

1 Curiously in the sense of attentively or inquisitively. 

2 In Bacon's time, the auxiliaries could, should, and would were often 
used indiscriminately. Here we should use should, 

3 Conference for conversation. So, a little further on, confer for con- 
verse. 

4 In our old writers, wit is very often put for mind, judgment, under- 
standing. Here, and throughout this piece, it is mind, 

6 " Studies pass up into manners and habits." 



LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 8l 

not apt to distinguish or find differences, let him study 
the schoolmen ; for they are Cymiui sectores : 1 if he be 
not apt to beat over matters, and to call up one thing to 
prove and illustrate another, let him study the lawyers' 
cases : so every defect of the mind may have a special 
receipt. 

XXXIV. — LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 

Felicia Dorothea Hemaxs; 1794-1835. 

1. The breaking waves dashed high 

On a stern and rock-bound coast, 
And the woods against a stormy sky 
Their giant branches tossed ; 

2. And the heavy night hung dark, 

The hills and waters o'er, 
When a band of exiles moored their bark 
On the wild New England shore. 

3. Not as the conqueror comes, 

They, the true-hearted, came ; 
Not with the roll of the stirring drums, 
And the trumpet that sings of fame. 

4. Not as the flying come, 

In silence, and in fear ; — 

1 "Splitters of cummin," or, as we now say, "hair-splitters." "The 
schoolmen" are the scholars of the Middle Ages, who spent their force 
very much in drawing nice and frivolous distinctions; or in splitting hairs. 



82 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

They shook the depths of the desert gloom 
With their hymns of lofty cheer. 

5. Amidst the storm they sang, 

And the stars heard, and the sea ; 
And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang 
To the anthem of the free ! 

6. The ocean-eagle soared, 

From his nest by the white wave's foam ; 
And the rocking pines of the forest roared, — 
This was their welcome home. 

7. There were men with hoary hair 

Amidst that pilgrim band : 
Why had they come to wither there, 
Away from their childhood's land ? 

8. There was woman's fearless eye, 

Lit by her deep love's truth ; 
There was manhood's brow, serenely high, 
And the fiery heart of youth. 

9. What sought they thus afar ? 

Bright jewels of the mine ? 
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war ? — 
They sought a faith's pure shrine ! 

10. Ay, call it holy ground, 

The soil where first they trod : 
They have left unstained what there they found, 
Freedom to worship God. 



EXTRACT FROM EMMET'S SPEECH. 83 



XXXV. — EXTRACT FROM EMMET'S SPEECH; 

1780-1803. 

1. My Lords : What have I to say, why sentence of 
death should not be pronounced on me, according to 
law ? I have nothing to say that can alter your prede- 
termination, or that it would become me to say, with 
any view to the mitigation of that sentence which you 
are here to pronounce, and which I must abide. But I 
have much to say which interests me more than that 
life which you have labored to destroy. I have much 
to say, why my reputation should be rescued from the 
load of false accusation and calumny which has been 
heaped upon it. 

2. Were I only to suffer death, after being adjudged 
guilty by your tribunal, I should bow in silence, and 
meet the fate that awaits me without a murmur. But 
the sentence of the law which delivers my body to the 
executioner, will, through the ministry of that law, labor 
in its own vindication to consign my character to ob- 
loquy, for there must be guilt somewhere ; whether in 
the sentence of the court or in the catastrophe, posterity 
must determine. 

3. When my spirit shall be wafted to a more friendly 
port ; when my shade shall have joined the bands of 
those martyred heroes who have shed their blood on the 
scaffold and in the field in defense of their country and 
virtue, — this is my hope : I wish that my memory and 
name may animate these who survive me, while I look 



84 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

down with complacency on the destruction of that per- 
fidious government which upholds its domination by 
blasphemy of the Most High. 

4. My lord, shall a dying man be denied the legal 
privilege of exculpating himself, in the eyes of the com- 
munity, from an undeserved reproach thrown upon him 
during his trial, by charging him with ambition, and at- 
tempting to cast away, for a paltry consideration, the 
liberties of his country ? Why, then, insult me ? or, 
rather, why insult justice, in demanding of me why sen- 
tence of death should not be pronounced ? 

5. I am charged with being an emissary of France! 
An emissary of France ! And for what end ? It is al- 
leged that I wished to sell the independence of my 
country! And for what end? Was this the object of 
my ambition ? and is this the mode by which a tribunal 
of justice reconciles contradictions ? No, I am no em- 
issary ; and my ambition was to hold a place among the 
deliverers of my country ; not in power, nor in profit, 
but in the glory of the achievement ! 

6. I have but one request to ask at my departure 
from this world ; — it is the charity of its silence. Let 
no man write my epitaph ; for, as no one who knows my 
motives dares now vindicate them, let not prejudice or 
ignorance asperse them. Let them and me repose in 
obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain uninscribed, 
until other times and other men can do justice to my 
character. When my country shall take her place 
among the nations of the earth, then, and not till then, 
let my epitaph be written ! 



THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE. 85 

XXXVI. — THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE. 

Alfred Tennyson; 1809-. 

1. Half a league — half a league — 

Half a league onward, — 
All in the valley of Death 

Rode the Six Hundred ! 
" Forward, the Light Brigade ! 
I Charge for the guns ! " he said. 

Into the valley of Death 

Rode the Six Hundred ! 

2. " Forward, the Light Brigade ! " 
Was there a man dismayed ? 
Not though the soldier knew 

Some one had blundered. 
Theirs not to make reply ; 
Theirs not to reason why ; 
Theirs but to do and die ! 
Into the valley of Death 

Rode the Six Hundred ! 

3. Cannon to right of them, 
Cannon to left of them, 
Cannon in front of them, 

Volleyed and thundered ; 
Stormed at with shot and shell, 
Boldly they rode, and well ; 
Into the jaws of Death, 
Into the mouth of Hell 

Rode the Six Hundred ! 



85 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

4. Flashed all their sabers bare, 
Flashed as they turned in air, 
Sabring the gunners there, 
Charging an army, while 

All the world wondered : 
Plunged in the battery-smoke, 
Right through the line they broke ; 
Cossack and Russian 
Reeled from the saber-stroke, 

Shattered and sundered. 
Then they rode back, but not — 
Not the Six Hundred ! 

5. Cannon to right of them, 
Cannon to left of them, 
Cannon behind them, 

Volleyed and thundered ; 
Stormed at with shot and shell, 
While horse and hero fell, 
They that had fought so well 
Came through the jaws of Death, 
Back from the mouth of Hell, 
All that was left of them, — 
Left of Six Hundred ! 

6. When can their glory fade ? 
Oh, the wild charge they made ! 

All the world wondered. 
Honor the charge they made ! 
Honor the Light Brigade — 

Noble Six Hundred ! 



" MATCHES AND OVERMATCHES." 8j 

XXXVII.— '■ MATCHES AND OVERMATCHES." 

Extract from Webster's Reply to Hayxe. 

1. The gentleman inquires why he was made the 
object of such a reply. Why was he singled out? If 
an attack has been made on the East, he, he assures us, 
did not begin it : it was made by the gentleman from 
Missouri. Sir, I answered the gentleman's speech 
because I happened to hear it ; and, because, also, I 
chose to give an answer to that speech which, if un- 
answered, I thought most likely to produce injurious 
impressions. I did not stop to inquire who was the 
original drawer of the bill. I found a responsible 
indorser before me, and it was my purpose to hold him 
liable, and to bring him to his just responsibility, with- 
out delay. But, sir, this interrogatory of the honorable 
member was only introductory to another. He pro- 
ceeded to ask me whether I had turned upon him, in 
this debate, from the consciousness that I should find 
an overmatch, if I ventured on a contest with his friend 
from Missouri. 

2. If, sir, the honorable member, modes tice gratia, 
had chosen thus to defer to his friend, and to pay him 
a compliment, without intentional disparagement to 
others, it w r ould have been quite according to the 
friendly courtesies of debate, ana not at all ungrateful 
to my own feelings. I am not one of those, sir, who 
esteem any tribute of regard, whether light or occa 
sional, or more serious and deliberate, which may be 



88 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

bestowed on others, as so much unjustly withholden 
from themselves. But the tone and manner of the 
gentleman's question forbid me thus to interpret it. 
I am not at liberty to consider it as nothing more than 
a civility to his friend. It had an air of taunt and 
disparagement, something of the loftiness of asserted 
superiority, which does not allow me to pass it over 
without notice. It was put as a question for me to 
answer, and so put as if it were difficult for me to 
answer, whether I deemed the member from Missouri 
an overmatch for myself in debate here. It seems to 
me, sir, that this is extraordinary language, and an 
extraordinary tone, for the discussions of this body. 

3. Matches and overmatches! Those terms are'more 
applicable elsewhere than here, and fitter for other 
assemblies than this. Sir, the gentleman seems to 
forget where and what we are. This is a senate, a 
senate of equals, of men of individual honor and per- 
sonal character, and of absolute independence. We 
know no masters, we acknowledge no dictators. This 
is a hall for mutual consultation and discussion ; not 
an arena for the exhibition of champions. I offer 
myself, sir, as a match for no man ; I throw the chal- 
lenge of debate at no man's feet. But then, sir, since 
the honorable member has put the question in a man- 
ner that calls for an answer, I will give him an answer ; 
and I tell him that, holding myself to be the humblest 
of the members here, I yet know nothing in the arm of 
his friend from Missouri, either alone or when aided by 
his friend from South Carolina, that need deter even 



SNOW-BOUND. 89 

me from espousing whatever opinions I may choose to 
espouse, from debating whenever I choose to debate, 
or from speaking whatever I may see fit to say, on 
the floor of the Senate. 



XXXVIII. — SNOW-BOUND. 

John G. Whittier; 1807-. 

1. The moon above the eastern wood 
Shone at its full ; the hill-range stood 
Transfigured on the silver flood, 

Its blown snows flashing cold and keen, 
Dead white, save where some sharp ravine 
Took shadow, or the "sombre green 
Of hemlocks turned to pitchy black 
Against the whiteness at their back. 
For such a world and such a night 
Most fitting that unwarming light, 
Which only seemed where'er it fell 
To make the coldness visible. 

2. Shut in from all the world without, 
We sat the clean-winged hearth about, 
Content to let the cold wind roar 

In baffled rage at pane and door, 
While the red logs before us beat 
The frost-line back with tropic heat ; 



90 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

And ever, when a louder blast 
Shook beam and rafter as it passed, 
The merrier up its roaring draught 
The great throat of the chimney laughed. 

3. The house-dog on his paws outspread 
Laid to the fire his drowsy head, 
The cat's dark silhouette on the wall 
A couchant tiger's seemed to fall ; 
And, for the winter fireside meet, 
Between the andirons' straddling feet, 
The mug of cider simmered slow, 
The apples sputtered in a row, 

And, close at hand, the basket stood 
With nuts from brown October's wood. 

4. What matter how the night behaved ? 
What matter how the north-wind raved ? 
Blow high, blow low, not all its snow 
Could quench our hearth-fire's ruddy glow. 



Were I so tall to reach the pole, 
Or grasp the ocean in my span, 

I must be measured by my soul ; 

The mind 's the standard of the man. 



AFTER MARRIAGE. 91 



XXXIX. — AFTER MARRIAGE. 

Richard Brinsley Sheridan; 1751-1816. 
LADY TEAZLE AND SIR PETER. 

Sir Peter. 4 Lady Teazle, Lady Teazle, I '11 not bear it ! 

Lady Teazle. Sir Peter, Sir Peter, you may bear it 
or not, as you please ; but I ought to have my own way 
in everything ; and what 's more, I will, too. What ! 
though I was educated in the country, I know very well 
that women of fashion in London are accountable to 
nobody after they are married. 

Sir P. Very well, ma'am, very well — so a husband 
is to have no influence, no authority ? 

Lady T. Authority ! No, to be sure : — if you 
wanted authority over me, you should have adopted 
me, and not married me ; I am sure you were old 
enough. 

Sir P. Old enough ! — ay — there it is. Well, well, 
Lady Teazle, though my life may be made unhappy by 
your temper, I '11 not be ruined by you extravagance. 

Lady T. My extravagance ! I 'm sure I 'm not more 
extravagant than a woman ought to be. 

Sir P. No, no, madam, you shall throw T away no 
more sums on such unmeaning luxury. Indeed ! to 
spend as much to furnish your dressing-room with 
flowers in winter as would suffice to turn the Pan- 
theon 1 into a greenhouse. 

1 Panthe' on. A temple dedicated to all the gods. The Pantheon, at 
Rome, now comparatively in ruins, is one of ihe most splendid remains of 
the ancients. 



92 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

Lady T. Why, Sir Peter ! am I to blame because 
flowers are dear in cold weather ? You should find 
fault with the climate, and not with me. For my part, 
I 'm sure, I wish it were spring all the year round, and 
that roses grew under our feet ! 

Sir P. Zounds ! madam — if you had been born to 
this, I should n't wonder at your talking thus ; but you 
forget what your situation was when I married you. 

Lady T. No, no, I do n't ; 't was a very disagreeable 
one, or I should never have married you. 

Sir P. Yes, yes, madam, you were then in somewhat 
a humbler style — the daughter of a plain country squire. 
Recollect, Lady Teazle, when I saw you first, sitting at 
your tambour, in a pretty figured linen gown, with a 
bunch of keys at your side, your hair combed smooth 
over a roll, and your apartment hung round with fruits 
in worsted of your own working. 

Lady T. O, yes ! I remember it very well, and a 
curious life I led, — my daily occupation, to inspect the 
dairy, superintend the poultry, make extracts from the 
family receipt-book, and comb my aunt Deborah's lap- 
dog. 

Sir P. Yes, yes, ma'am, 't was so, indeed. 

Lady T. And then, you know, my evening amuse- 
ments ; — to draw patterns for ruffles, which I had not 
materials to make up ; to play Pope Joan with the 
curate ; to read a novel to my aunt ; or to be stuck 
down to an old spinet to strum my father to sleep after 
a fox-chase. 

Sir P. I am glad you have so good a memory. Yes, 



AFTER MARRIAGE. 93 

madam, these were the recreations I took you from ; 
but now you must have your coach — vis-a-vis — and 
three powdered footmen before your chair ; and, in the 
summer, a pair of white cats to draw you to Kensington 
Gardens. No recollection, I suppose, when you were* 
content to ride double, behind the butler, on a docked 
coach-horse. 

Lady T. No — I never did that : I deny the butler 
and the coach-horse. 

Sir P. This, madam, was your situation ; and what 
have I done for you ? I have made you a woman of 
fashion, of fortune, of rank ; in short, I have made you 
my wife. 

Lady T. Well, then ; and there is but one thing more 
you can make me, to add to the obligation, and that is — 

Sir P. My widow, I suppose. 

Lady T. Hem ! hem ! 

Sir P. I thank you, madam ; but do n't flatter your- 
self ; for though your ill conduct may disturb my peace 
of mind, it shall never break my heart, I promise you : 
however, I am equally obliged to you for the hint. 

Lady T. Then why will you endeavor to make your- 
self so disagreeable to me, and thwart me in every little 
elegant expense ? 

Sir P. Indeed, madam, had you any of these little 
elegant expenses when you married me ? 

Lady T. Why, Sir Peter ! would you have me be out 
of the fashion ? 

Sir P. The fashion, indeed ! What had you to do 
with the fashion before you married me ? 



94 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

Lady T. For my part, I should think you would like 
to have your wife thought a woman of taste. 

Sir P. Ay, there again — taste. Zounds ! madam, 
you had no taste when you married me ! 

Lady T. That's very true indeed, Sir Peter; and af- 
ter having married you, I should never pretend to taste 
again, I allow. But now, Sir Peter, since we have fin- 
ished our daily jangle, I presume I may go to my en- 
gagement at Lady Sneerwell's. 

Sir P. Ay, there's another precious circumstance — 
a chaxTning set of acquaintance you have made there. 

Lady T. Nay, Sir Peter, they are all people of rank 
and fortune, and remarkably tenacious of reputation. 

Sir P. Yes, they are tenacious of reputation with a 
vengeance ; for they don't choose anybody should have 
a character but themselves ! — Such a crew ! Ah ! many 
a wretch has ridden on a hurdle who has done less mis- 
chief than these utterers of forged tales, coiners of scan- 
dal, and clippers of reputation. 

Lady T. What ! would you restrain the freedom of 
speech ? 

Sir P. Ah ! they have made you just as bad as any 
one of the society. 

Lady T. Why, I believe I do bear a part with a tol- 
erable grace. 

Sir P. Grace, indeed ! 

Lady T. But I vow I bear no malice against the peo- 
ple I abuse. When I say an ill-natured thing, 't is out 
of pure good-humor ; and I take it for granted they deal 



THE SOLDIER S DIRGE. 95 

exactly in the same manner with me. But, Sir Peter, 
you know you promised to come to Lady Sneerwell's 
too. 

Sir P. Well, well, I'll call in just to look after my 
own character. 

Lady T. Then indeed you must make haste after me, 
or you'll be too late. So, good by to you. 

[Exit Lady Teazle. 

Sir P. So — I have gained much by my intended ex- 
postulation : yet, with what a charming air she contra- 
dicts everything I say, and how pleasingly she shows 
her contempt for my authority ! Well, though I can 't 
make her love me, there is great satisfaction in quarrel- 
ing with her ; and I think she never appears to such 
advantage as when she is doing everything in her power 
to plague me. [Exit. 

XL — THE SOLDIER'S DIRGE. 

Theodore O'Hara; 1820-1867. 

I. The muffled drum's sad roll has beat 

The soldier's last tattoo ; 
No more on life's parade shall meet 

That brave and fallen few. 
On Fame's eternal camping-ground 

Their silent tents are spread ; 
And glory guards with solemn round 

The bivouac of the dead. 



96 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

2. No rumor of the foe's advance 

Now swells upon the wind ; 
No troubled thoughts, at midnight haunts, 

Of loved ones left behind ; 
No vision of the morrow's strife 

The warrior's dream alarms ; 
No braying horn, nor screaming fife, 

At dawn shall call to arms. 

3. Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead, 

Dear as the blood ye gave ; 
No impious footstep here shall tread 

The herbage of your grave. 
Nor shall your glory be forgot, 

While Fame her record keeps, 
Or Honor points the hallowed spot 

Where valor proudly sleeps. 

4. Yon faithful herald's blazoned stone 

With mournful pride shall tell, 
When many a vanished age hath flown, 

The story how ye fell. 
Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's flight, 

Nor time's remorseless doom, 
Shall mar one ray of glory's light 

That gilds your deathless tomb. 



SPEECH OF PATRICK HENRY. 97 



XLL— SPEECH OF PATRICK HENRY; 1736-1799. 

1. Mr. President : It is natural for man to indulge 
in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes 
against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that 
siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the 
part of wise men engaged in a great and arduous strug- 
gle for liberty ? Are we disposed to be of the number 
of those who, having eyes, see not, and having ears, 
hear not the things which so nearly concern their tem- 
poral salvation ? For my part, whatever anguish of 
spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth ; 
to know the worst, and to provide for it. 

2. I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, 
and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way 
of judging of the future but by the past. And judging 
by the past, I wish to know what has been the conduct 
of the British ministry for the last ten years to justify 
those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased 
to solace themselves and the house. Is it that insidious 
smile with which our petition has been lately received ? 
Trust it not, sir, it will prove a snare to your feet. 
Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. As 1 ; 
yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition 
comports with those warlike preparations which cover 
our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies 
necessary to a work of love and reconciliation ? Have 
we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled, that 
force must be called in to win back our love ? Let us 



98 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements 
of war, and subjugation — the last arguments to which 
kings resort. There is no longer any room for hope. 
If we wish to be free, if we mean to preserve inviolate 
those inestimable privileges for which we have been so 
long contending, if we mean not basely to abandon the 
noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, 
and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon 
until the glorious object of our contest is obtained, we 
must fight ; I repeat it, sir, we must fight. An appeal 
to arms and to the God of Hosts, is ,all that is left us. 

3. They tell us, sir, that we are weak, unable to cope 
with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we 
be stronger ? Will it be the next week, or the next 
year ? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and 
when a British guard shall be stationed in every house ? 
Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction ? 
Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance, by 
lying supinely on our backs, and hugging the delusive 
phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us 
hand and foot ? 

4. Sir, we are not weak, if we make a proper use of 
those means which the God of nature hath placed in 
our power. Three millions of people, armed in the holy 
cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we 
possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy 
can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight 
our battles alone. There is a just God, who presides 
over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up 
friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is 



NEW ENGLAND S DEAD. 99 

not to the strong alone ; it is to the vigilant, the active, 
the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we 
were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire 
from the contest. There is no retreat but in submis- 
sion and slavery. Our chains are forged. Their clank- 
ing may be heard on the plains of Boston. The war is 
inevitable — and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it 
come ! 

5. It is vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen 
may cry, Peace, peace ; but there is no peace. The war 
is actually begun. The next gale that sweeps from the 
north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding 
arms. Our brethren are already in the field. Why 
stand we here idle ? What is it that gentlemen wish ? 
What would they have ? Is life so dear, or peace so 
sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and 
slavery ? Forbid it, Almighty God ! I know not what 
course others may take, but, as for me, give me liberty 
or give me death ! 

XLIL — NEW ENGLAND'S DEAD. 

Isaac McLellan; i8io-. 

I. New England's dead ! New England's dead ! 

On every hill they lie ; 
On every field of strife made red 

By bloody victory. 
Each valley, where the battle poured 

Its red and awful tide, 



IOO STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

Beheld the brave New England sword 

With slaughter deeply dyed. 
Their bones are on the northern hill, 

And on the southern plain, 
By brook and river, lake and rill, 

And by the roaring main. 

2. The land is holy where they fought, 

And holy where they fell ; 
For by their blood that land was bought, 

The land they loved so well. 
Then glory to that valiant band, 
The honored saviors of the land ! 
Oh ! few and weak their numbers were, — 

A handful of brave men ; 
But to their God they gave their prayer, 

And rushed to battle then. 
The God of battles heard their cry, 
And sent to them the victory. 

3. They left the plowshare in the mold, 
Their flocks and herds without a fold, 
The sickle in the unshorn grain, 
The corn half garnered, on the plain, 
And mustered, in their simple dress, 
For wrongs to seek a stern redress, 

To right those wrongs, come weal, come woe, 
To perish, or o'ercome their foe. 

4. And where are ye, O fearless men ? 

O, where are ye to-day ? 



O COXXELL AS AX ORATOR. IOI 

I call : — the hills reply again 

That ye have passed away ; 
That on old Bunker's lonely height, 

In Trenton, and in Monmouth ground, 
The grass grows green, the harvest bright, 

Above each soldier's mound. 

The bugle's wild and warlike blast 

Shall muster them no more ; 
An army now might thunder past, 

And they not heed its roan. 
The starry flag, 'neath which they fought 

In many a bloody day, 
From their old graves shall rouse them not, 

For they have passed away. 



o>«<o 



XLIII. — O'CONNELL AS AN ORATOR. 

Wendell Phillips; 1811-1884. 

I. I think I do not exaggerate when I say that never 
since God made Demosthenes, has He made a man 
better fitted for a great work than O'Connell. You 
may say I am partial ; but John Randolph, of Roanoke, 
who hated an Irishman almost as much as he did a 
Yankee, when he got to London and heard O'Connell, 
threw up his hands and exclaimed, " This is the man, 
those are the lips, the most eloquent that speak English 
in my day," — and I think he was right. 



102 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

2. Webster could address a bench of judges ; Everett 
could charm a college ; Choate could delude a jury ; 
Clay could magnetize a senate ; and Tom Corwin could 
hold the mob in his right hand ; but no one of these men 
could do more than this one thing. The wonder about 
O'Connell was that he could out-talk Corwin, he could 
charm a college better than Everett, and leave Henry 
Clay himself far behind in magnetizing a senate. 

3. It has been my privilege to hear all the great 
orators of America who have become singularly famed 
about the world's circumference. I know what was the 
majesty of Webster; I know what it was to melt under 
the magnetism of Henry Clay ; I have seen eloquence 
in the iron logic of Calhoun ; but all three of these men 
never surpassed, and none of them ever equaled, the 
great Irishman. 

4. Besides his irreproachable character, he had what 
is half the power of a popular orator — he had a majestic 
presence. In youth he had the brow of a Jupiter, and 
the stature of an Apollo. A little O'Connell would 
have been no O'Connell at all. Sydney Smith said of 
Lord John Russell's five feet — when he went down to 
Yorkshire after the Reform Bill was passed — that the 
stalwart hunters of Yorkshire exclaimed, " What ! that 
little shrimp ! he carry the Reform Bill ! " " No, no," 
said Smith, " he was a large man, but the labors of the 
bill shrunk him." 

5. You remember the story that James Russell Lowell 
tells of Webster when we in Massachusetts were about 
to break up the Whig party. Webster came home to 



O CONNELL AS AN ORATOR. IO3 

Fanueil Hall to protest, and four thousand Whigs came 
out to meet him. He lifted up his majestic presence 
and said, " Gentlemen, I am a Whig ; a Massachusetts 
Whig ; a Revolutionary Whig ; a Constitutional Whig ; 
a Fanueil Hall Whig ; and if you break up the Whig 
party, where am I to go ? " 

" And," says Lowell, "we all held our breath, trying 
to think where he could go. But, if he had been five 
feet three, we should have said, — who do you suppose 
cares where you go ? " 

6. Well, O'Connell had all that, and then he had 
what Webster never had, and what Clay had, the mag- 
netism and grace that melt a million souls into his. 
When I saw him he was sixty-five, lithe as a boy. His 
every attitude was beauty ; his every gesture, grace. 
Why, Macready or Booth never equaled him. 

7. It would have been a pleasure even to look at him, 
if he had not spoken at all, and all you thought of was a 
greyhound. And then he had, what so few American 
speakers have, a voice that sounded the gamut. With 
the slightest possible flavor of an Irish brogue, he would 
tell a story that would make Exeter Hall laugh, and the 
next moment there were tears in his voice, like an old 
song, and five thousand men would be in tears. And 
all the while no effort — he seemed only breathing — 

" As effortless as woodland nooks 
Send violets up and paint them blue. 11 



104 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

XLIV. — JOHN MAYNARD. 

Anonymous. 

i. 'Twas on Lake Erie's broad expanse, 

One bright midsummer day, 
The gallant steamer Ocean Queen 

Swept proudly on her way. 
Bright faces clustered on the deck, 

Or, leaning o'er the side, 
Watched carelessly the feathery foam 

That flecked the rippling tide. 

2. Ah, who beneath that cloudless sky, 

That smiling bends serene, 
Could dream that danger, awful, vast, 

Impended o'er the scene, — 
Could dream, that ere an hour had sped, 

That frame of sturdy oak 
Would sink beneath the lake's blue waves, 

Blackened with fire and smoke ? 

3. A seaman sought the captain's side, 

A moment whispered low : 
The captain's swarthy face grew pale ; 

He hurried down below. 
Alas, too late ! Though quick, and sharp, 

And clear, his orders came, 
No human efforts could avail 

To quench th' insidious flame. 



JOHN MAYNARD. IO5 

4. The bad news quickly reached the deck, 

It sped from lip to lip, 
And ghastly faces everywhere 

Looked from the doomed ship. 
" Is there no hope — no chance of life ? " 

A hundred lips implore. 
"But one," the captain made reply — 

"To run the ship on shore." 

5. A sailor whose heroic soul 

That hour should yet reveal, 
By name John Maynard, Eastern born, 

Stood calmly at the wheel. 
"Head her southeast ! " the captain shouts 

Above the smothered roar ; 
" Head her southeast without delay ! 

Make for the nearest shore ! " 

6. No terror pales the helmsman's cheek, 

Or clouds his dauntless eye, 
As in a sailor's measured tone 

His voice responds, "Ay, ay ! " 
Three hundred souls, the steamer's freight, 

Crowd forward wild with fear, 
While at the stern the dreadful flames 

Above the deck appear. 

7. John Maynard watched the nearing flames, 

But still, with steady hand, 
He grasped the wheel, and steadfastly 
He steered the ship to land. 



106 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

"John Maynard, can you still hold out ? " 

He heard the captain cry ; 
A voice from out the stifling smoke 

Faintly responds, "Ay, ay ! " 

8. But half a mile ! A hundred hands 

Stretch eagerly to shore. 
But half a mile ! That distance sped, 

Peril shall all be o'er. 
But half a mile ! Yet stay ; the flames 

No longer slowly creep, 
But gather round the helmsman bold 

With fierce, impetuous sweep. 

9. "John Maynard," with an anxious voice, 

The captain cries once more, 
" Stand by the wheel five minutes yet, 

And we will reach the shore." 
Through flames and smoke that dauntless heart 

Responded firmly still, 
Unawed, though face to face with death, 

" With God's good help I will ! " 

10. The flames approach with giant strides ; 

They scorch his hands and brow ; 
One arm disabled seeks his side : 

Ah, he is conquered now ! 
But no ; his teeth are firmly set ; 

He crushes down his pain ; 
His knee upon the stanchion pressed, 

He guides the ship again. 



THE LAST INAUGURAL OF LINCOLN. 107 

11. One moment yet, one moment yet ! 

Brave heart thy task is o'er; 
The pebbles grate beneath the keel, 

The steamer touches shore. 
Three hundred grateful voices rise 

In praise to God, that He 
Hath saved them from the fearful fire, 

And from th' ingulfing sea. 

12. But where is he, that helmsman bold ? 

The captain saw him reel — 
His nerveless hands released their task, 

He sank beside the wheel. 
The wave received his lifeless corpse, 

Blackened with smoke and fire. 
God rest him ! Never hero had 

A nobler funeral pyre. 



ol**<o 



XLV. — THE LAST INAUGURAL OF LINCOLN; 

1809-1865. 

1. Fellow-Couxtrymex : At this second appearing 
to take the oath of the Presidential office, there is less 
occasion for extended address than there was at the first. 
Then a statement somewhat in detail of a course to be 
pursued seemed fitting and proper. Now, at the expira- 
tion of four years, during which public declarations have 
been constantly called forth on every point and phase 
of the great contest which still absorbs the attention 



108 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

and engrosses the energies of the nation, little that is 
new could be presented. 

2. The progress of our arms, upon which all else 
chiefly depends, is as well known to the public as to 
myself ; and it is, I trust, reasonably satisfactory and en- 
couraging to all. With high hope for the future," no, 
prediction in regard to it is ventured. 

3. On the occasion corresponding to this, four years 
ago, all thoughts were anxiously directed to an impend- 
ing civil war. All dreaded it ; all sought to avoid it. 
While the inaugural address was being delivered from 
this place, devoted altogether to saving the Union with- 
out war, insurgent agents were in this city seeking to 
destroy it without war — seeking to dissolve the Union 
and divide its effects by negotiation. Both parties dep- 
recated war ; but one of them would make war rather 
than let the nation survive, and the other would accept 
war rather than let it perish ; and the war came. 

4. One-eighth of the whole population were colored 
slaves, not distributed generally over the Union, but 
localized in the southern part of it. These slaves con- 
stituted a peculiar and powerful interest. All knew 
that this interest was somehow the cause of the war. 
To strengthen, perpetuate, and extend the interest was 
the object for which the insurgents would rend the Un- 
ion, even by war, while the government claimed no 
right to do more than restrict the territorial enlarge- 
ment of it. 

5. Neither party expected for the war the magnitude 
or the duration which it has already attained. Neither 



THE LAST INAUGURAL OF LINCOLN. IO9 

anticipated that the cause might cease with or even be- 
fore the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for 
an easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and 
astounding. 

6. Both read the same Bible and prayed to the same 
God, and each invoked His aid against the other. It 
may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a 
just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the 
sweat of other men's faces ; but let us judge not, that 
we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be 
answered — that of neither has been answered fully. 
The Almighty has His own purpose. Woe unto the 
world because of offenses, for it must needs be that of- 
fenses come ; but woe to that man by whom the offense 
cometh. If we shall suppose that American slavery is 
one of these offenses which in the providence of God 
must needs come, but which, having continued through 
His appointed time, He now wills to remove, and that 
He gives to both North and South this terrible war as 
the woe due to those by whom the offense came, shall 
we discern therein any departure from those Divine 
attributes which the believers in a living God always 
ascribe to Him ? 

7. Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this 
mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, 
if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled 
by the bondman's two hundred and fifty years of unre- 
quited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood 
drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn 
with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, 



IIO STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

so still must it be said, that the judgments of the Lord 
are true and righteous altogether. 

8. With malice toward none, with charity for all, with 
firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, 
let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up 
the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have 
borne the battle, and for his. widow and his orphans — 
to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and last- 
ing peace among ourselves and with all nations. 

XLVI. — MARCO BOZZARIS. 

Fitz-Greene Halleck; 1790-1867. 

1. At midnight, in his guarded tent, 

The Turk was dreaming of the hour 
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, 

Should tremble at his power. 
In dreams, through camp and court he bore 
The trophies of a conqueror ; 

In dreams, his song of triumph heard ; 
Then wore his monarch's signet-ring : 
Then pressed that monarch's throne — a king : 
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, 

As Eden's garden-bird. 

2. At midnight, in the forest shades, 

Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band, 
True as the steel of their tried blades, 
Heroes in heart and hand. 



MARCO BOZZARIS. I I I 

There had the Persian's thousands stood, 
There had the glad earth drunk their blood, 

On old Plataea's day : 
And now there breathed that haunted air, 
The sons of sires who conquered there, 
With arms to strike, and soul to dare, 

As quick, as far as they. 

3. An hour passed on — the Turk awoke ; 

That bright dream was his last : 
He woke — to hear his sentries shriek, 
" To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek ! " 
He woke — to die mid flame and smoke, 
And shout, and groan, and saber-stroke, 

And death-shots falling thick and fast 
As lightnings from the mountain-cloud ; 
And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, 

Bozzaris cheer his band : 
" Strike ! — till the last armed foe expires ; 
Strike ! — for your altars and your fires ; 
Strike ! — for the green graves of your sires ; 

God — and your native land ! " 

4. They fought — like brave men, long and well ; 

They piled the ground with Moslem slain ; 
They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, 

Bleeding at every vein. 
His few surviving comrades saw 
His smile, when rang their proud — " hurrah," 

And the red field was won ; 



112 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

Then saw in death his eyelids close, 
Calmly, as to a night's repose, 
Like flowers at set of sun. 

5. Come to the bridal chamber, Death ! 

Come to the mother, when she feels, 
For the first time, her first-born's breath ; 

Come when the blessed seals 
That close the pestilence are broke, 
And crowded cities wail its stroke ; 
Come in consumption's ghastly form, 
The earthquake shock, the ocean storm ; — 
Come when the heart beats high and warm, 

With banquet-song, and dance, and wine, 
And thou art terrible : the tear, 
The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier, 
And all we know, or dream, or fear 

Of agony, are thine. 

6. But to the hero, when his sword 

Has won the battle for the free, 
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word, 
And in its hollow tones are heard 

The thanks of millions yet to be. 

a|£ a|£, iji ^L^ iji ^LL 

Bozzaris ! with the storied brave 
Greece nurtured in her glory's time, 

Rest thee — there is no prouder grave, 
Even in her own proud clime. 



THE MONEYED MAN. II3 

We tell thy doom without a sigh ; 
For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's — 
One of the few, the immortal names 

That were not born to die. 



XLVII.— THE MONEYED MAN. 

New Monthly Magazine. 

Old Jacob Stock ! The chimes of the clock were 
not more punctual in proclaiming the progress of time 
than in marking the regularity of his visits at the tem- 
ples of Plutus in Threadneedle-street and Bartholomew- 
lane. His devotion to them was exemplary. In vain 
the wind and the rain, the hail and the sleet, battled 
against his rugged front. Not the slippery ice, nor the 
thick-falling snow, nor the whole artillery of elementary 
warfare, could check the plodding perseverance of the 
man of the world, or tempt him to lose the chance which 
the morning, however unpropitious it seemed in its ex- 
ternal aspect, might yield him of profiting by the turn 
of a fraction. 

He was a stout-built, round-shouldered, squab-looking 
man, of a bearish aspect. His features were hard, and 
his heart was harder. You could read the interest table 
in the wrinkles of his brow, trace the rise and fall of 
stocks by the look of his countenance; while avarice, 
selfishness, and money-getting glared from his gray, 
glassy eye. Nature had poured no balm into his 



114 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

breast ; nor was his " gross and earthly mold " sus- 
ceptible of pity. A single look of his would daunt the 
most importunate petitioner that ever attempted to ex- 
tract hard coin by the soft rhetoric of a heart-moving 
tale. 

The wife of one whom he had known in better days 
pleaded before him for her sick husband and famishing 
infants. Jacob, on occasions like these, was a man of 
few words. He was as chary of them as of his money, 
and he let her come to the end of her tale without in- 
terruption. She paused for a reply, but he gave none. 
" Indeed, he is very ill, sir." — " Can't help it/' — " We 
are very distressed." — " Can't help it." — " Our poor 
children, too " — " Can't help that neither." 

The petitioner's eye looked a mournful reproach, 
which would have interpreted itself to any other heart 
but his, " Indeed you can " ; but she was silent. Jacob 
felt more awkwardly than he had ever done in his life. 
His hand involuntarily scrambled about his breeches' 
pocket. There was something like the weakness of 
human nature stirring within him. Some coin had 
unconsciously worked its way into his hand — his fin- 
gers insensibly closed ; but the effort to draw them 
forth, and the impossibility of effecting it without un- 
closing them, roused the dormant selfishness of his 
nature and restored his self-possession. 

"He has been very extravagant." — " Ah, sir, he has 
been very unfortunate, not extravagant." — "Unfortu- 
nate ! Ah, it 's the same thing. Little odds, I fancy. 
For my part, I wonder how folks can be unfortunate. 



THE MONEYED MAN. 1 1 5 

/ was never unfortunate. Nobody need be unfortunate 
if they look after the main chance. / always looked 
after the main chance." — " He has had a large family 
to maintain." — "Ah ! married foolishly — no offense to 
you, ma'am. But when poor folks marry poor folks, 
what are thev to look for ? You know. Besides, he 
was so foolishly fond of assisting others. If a friend 
was sick, or in jail, out came his purse, and then his 
creditors might go whistle. Now, if he had married a 
woman with money, you know, why then ..." 

The supplicant turned pale, and would have fainted. 
Jacob was alarmed. Not that he sympathized ; but a 
woman's fainting was a scene that he had not been used 
to. Besides, there was an awkwardness about it, for 
Jacob was a bachelor. 

Sixty summers had passed over his head without im- 
parting a ray of warmth to his heart, — without exciting 
one tender feeling for the sex, deprived of whose cheer- 
ing presence the paradise of the world were a wilder- 
ness of weeds. So he desperately extracted a crown- 
piece from the depth profound, and thrust it hastily 
into her hand. The action recalled her wandering 
senses. She blushed — it was the honest blush of 
pride at the meanness of the gift. She curtsied ; 
staggered towards the door ; opened it ; closed it ; 
raised her hand to her forehead, and burst into 
tears. . . . 



Il6 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

XLVIII. — NEW ENGLAND. 

J. G. Percival; 1795-1856. 

1. Hail to the land whereon we tread, 

Our fondest boast ! 
The sepulcher of mighty dead, 
The truest hearts that ever bled, 
Who sleep on glory's brightest bed, 

A fearless host ; 
No slave is here ; our unchained feet 
Walk freely as the waves that beat 

Our coast. 

2. Our fathers crossed the ocean's wave 

To seek this shore : 
They left behind the coward slave 
To welter in his living grave ; 
With hearts unbent, and spirits brave, 

They sternly bore 
Such toils as meaner souls had quelled, 
But souls like these such toils impelled 

To soar. 

3. Hail to the morn when first they stood 

On Bunker's height, 
And, fearless, stemmed the invading flood, 
And wrote our dearest rights in blood, 
And mowed in ranks the hireling brood, 

In desperate fight ! 



NEW ENGLAND. 117 

O, 'twas a proud, exulting day, 
For even our fallen fortunes lay 
In light. 

4. There is no other land like thee, 

No dearer shore ; 
Thou art the shelter of the free, 
The home, the port of liberty, 
Thou hast been and shalt ever be, 

Till time is o'er. 
Ere I forget to think upon 
My land, shall mother curse the son 

She bore. 

5. Thou art the firm, unshaken rock, 

On which we rest ; 
And, rising from thy hardy stock, 
Thy sons the tyrant's frown shall mock, 
And slavery's galling chains unlock, 

And free the oppressed ; 
All who the wreath of freedom twine 
Beneath the shadow of their vine, 

Are blessed. 

6. We love thy rude and rocky shore, 

And here we stand — 
Let foreign navies hasten o'er 
And on our heads their fury pour, 
And peal their cannon's loudest roar, 

And storm our land ; 



Il8 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

They still shall find our lives are given 
To die for home ; and leant on Heaven 
Our hand. 



o^o 



XLIX.— TOM BROWN'S VISIT TO DR. ARNOLD'S 

TOMB. 

Thomas Hughes; 1823-. 

1. There was no flag flying on the round tower; the 
schoolhouse windows were all shuttered up ; and when 
the flag went up again, and the shutters came down, it 
would be to welcome a stranger. All that was left on 
earth of him whom he had honored was lying cold and 
still under the chapel floor. He would go in and see 
the place once more, and then leave it once for all. 
New men and new methods might do for other people; 
let those who would worship the rising star, he, at least, 
would be faithful to the sun which had set. And so 
he got up, and walked to the chapel door and unlocked 
it, fancying himself the only mourner in all the broad 
land, and feeding on his own selfish sorrow. 

2. He passed through the vestibule, and then paused 
for a moment to glance over the empty benches. His 
heart was still proud and high, and he walked up to the 
seat which he had last occupied as a sixth form boy, 
and sat himself down there to collect his thoughts. 

3. And, truth to tell, they needed collecting and set- 
ting in order not a little. The memories of eight years 



TOM BROWNS VISIT TO DR. ARNOLDS TOMB. II9 

were all dancing through his brain and carrying him 
about whither they would ; while, beneath them all, his 
heart was throbbing with the dull sense of a loss that 
could never be made up to him. 

4. The rays of the evening sun came solemnly through 
the painted windows above his head, and fell in gorgeous 
colors on the opposite wall, and the perfect stillness 
soothed his spirit by little and little. And he turned 
to the pulpit, and looked at it ; and then, leaning for- 
ward, with his head on his hands, groaned aloud. " If 
he could only have seen the doctor again for one five 
minutes ; have told him all that was in his heart, w T hat 
he owed to him, how he loved and reverenced him, and 
would, by God's help, follow his steps in life and death, 
he could have borne it all without a murmur. But that 
he should have gone away forever without knowing it 
all, was too much to bear." "But am I sure that he 
does not know it all?'' The thought made him start. 
" May he not even now be near me, in this very chapel ? 
If he be, am I sorrowing as he would have me sorrow 
— as I should wish to have sorrowed when I shall meet 
him again ? " 

5. He raised himself up and looked round, and, after 
a minute, rose and walked humbly down to the lowest 
bench, and sat down on the very seat which he had 
occupied on his first Sunday at Rugby. And then the 
old memories rushed back again, but softened and sub- 
dued, and soothing him, as he let himself be carried 
away by them. And he looked up at the great painted 
window above the altar, and remembered how, when a 



120 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

little boy, he used to try not to look through it at the 
elm-trees and the rooks, before the painted glass came, 
and the subscription for. the painted glass, and the let- 
ter he wrote home for money to give to it. And there, 
down below, was the very name of the boy who sat on 
his right hand on that first day, scratched rudely in the 
oak paneling. 

6. And then came the thought of all his old school- 
fellows ; and form after form of boys, nobler and braver 
and purer than he, rose up and seemed to rebuke him. 
Could he not think of them, and what they had felt and 
were feeling — they who had honored and loved from 
the first, the man whom he had taken years to know 
and love ? Could he not think of those yet dearer to 
him who was gone, who bore his name and shared his 
blood, and were now without a husband or a father ? 
Then the grief which he began to share with others 
became gentle and holy, and he rose up once more, and 
walked up the steps to the altar, and, while the tears 
flowed freely down his cheeks, knelt down humbly and 
hopefully, to lay down there his share of a burden which 
had proved itself too heavy for him to bear in his own 
strength. 

7. Here let us leave him — where better could we 
leave him, than at the altar, before which he had first 
caught a glimpse of the glory of his birthright, and felt 
the drawing of the bond which links all living souls 
together in one brotherhood? — at the grave beneath 
the altar of him who had opened his eyes to see that 
glory, and softened his heart till it could feel that bond. 



MEMORY GEMS. 



i. 

'T is sweet to remember ! I would not forego 

The charm which the Past o'er the Present can throw 

For all the gay visions that Fancy may weave 

In her web of illusion, that shines to deceive. 

We know not the future, — the past we have felt ; — - 

Its cherished enjoyments the bosom can melt ; 

Its raptures anew o'er our pulses may roll 

When thoughts of the morrow fall cold on the soul. 

W. G. Clark. 
2. 

The quality of mercy is not strained : 
It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven, 
Upon the place beneath : it is twice blessed : 
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes : 
'T is mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown, — 
Itself enthroned in the hearts of kings. 
It is the loveliest attribute of Deity ; 
And earthly power shows likest to divine, 
When mercy seasons justice. 

Shakspere. 



122 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

3- 

Break, break, break, 

On thy cold gray stones, O Sea ! 
And I would that my tongue could utter 

The thoughts that arise in me. 

O, well for the fisherman's boy, 

That he shouts with his sister at play ! 

O, well for the sailor lad, 

That he sings in his boat on the bay ! 

And the stately ships go on 

To their haven under the hill ; 
But, O, for the touch of the vanished hand, 

And the sound of a voice that is still ! 

Break, break, break, 

At the foot of thy crags, O Sea ! 
But the tender grace of a day that is dead 

Will never come back to me. 

Tennyson. 

Mr. President : I shall enter on no encomium upon 
Massachusetts ; she needs none. There she is. Be- 
hold her, and judge for yourselves. There is her his- 
tory ; the world knows it by heart. The past, at least, 
is secure. There is Boston, and Concord, and Lexing- 
ton, and Bunker Hill ; and there they will remain for- 
ever. The bones of her sons, fallen in the great struggle 






MEMORY GEMS. 1 23 

for independence, now lie mingled with the soil of every 
state, from New England to Georgia ; and there they 
will lie forever. 

Webster. 

Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition ! 

By that sin fell the angels : how can man, then, 

The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't ? 

Love thyself last ; cherish those hearts that hate thee : 

Corruption wins not more than honesty ; 

Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, 

And silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : 

Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, 

Thy God's, and truth's ; then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, 

Thou fall'st a blessed martyr ! 

Shakspere. 

6. 

It wins my admiration 
To view the structure of that little work, 
A bird's nest. Mark it well, within, without ; 
No tool had he that wrought ; no knife to cut ; 
No nail to fix ; no bodkin to insert ; 
No glue to join ; — his little beak was all ; 
And yet how neatly finished ! What nice hand, 
With every implement and means of art, 
And twenty years' apprenticeship to boot, 
Could make me such another ? 

HURDIS. 



124 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

7- 

What parent, as he conducts his son to Mount 
Auburn or to Bunker Hill, will not, as he passes before 
their monumental statues, seek to heighten his rever- 
ence for virtue, for patriotism, for science, for learning, 
for devotion to the public good, as he bids him contem- 
plate the form of that grave and venerable Winthrop, 
who left his pleasant home in England to come and 
found a new republic in this untrodden wilderness ; of 
that ardent and intrepid Otis, who first struck out the 
spark of American independence ; of that noble Adams, 
its most eloquent champion on the floor of Congress ; 
of that martyr, Warren, who laid down his life in its 
defense ; of that self-taught Bowditch, who, without a 
guide, threaded the starry mazes of the heavens ; of 
that Story, honored at home and abroad as one of the 
brightest luminaries of the law, and, by a felicity of 
which I believe there is no other example, admirably 
portrayed in marble by his son ? 

Everett. 

8. 

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase !) 
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, 
And saw within the moonlight in his room, 
Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, 
An angel writing in a book of gold. 
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, 
And to the presence in the room he said, 
" What writest thou ? " — The vision raised its head, 



MEMORY GEMS. 12$ 

And, with a look made of all sweet accord, 
Answered, " The names of those who love the Lord.'' 
" And is mine one ? " said Abou. u Nay, not so," 
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, 
But cheerily still ; and said, " I pray thee, then, 
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men." 

The angel wrote and vanished. The next night 
It came again, with a great wakening light, 
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed, 
And lo ! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest ! t 

Leigh Hunt. 

9- 

We are not always equal to our fate, 

Nor true to our conditions. Doubt and fear 
Beset the bravest, in their high career, 
At moments when the soul, no more elate 
With expectation, sinks beneath the time. 
The masters have their weakness. " I would climb," 

Said Raleigh, gazing on the highest hill, — 
"But that I tremble with the fear to fall." 

Apt w r as the answer of the high-souled queen : 
" If thy heart fail thee, never climb at all ! " 
The heart ! if that be sound, confirms the rest, 

Crowns genius with his lion will and mien, 
And, from the conscious virtue in the breast, 
To trembling nature gives both strength and will. 

Sim ms. 



126 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

IO. 

Good name in man or woman 
Is the immediate jewel of their souls. 
Who steals my purse steals trash ; 't is some- 
thing, nothing ; 
'T was mine, 't is his, and has been slave to 

thousands ; 
But he who filches from me my good name, 
Robs me of that which not enriches him, 
And makes me poor indeed. 

Shakspere. 

II. 

Breathes there a man with soul so dead, 
Who never to himself hath said, 

This is my own, my native land ! 
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, 
As home his footsteps he hath turned, 

From wandering on a foreign strand ! 
If such there breathe, go mark him well ; 
For him no minstrel raptures swell ; 
High though his titles, proud his name, 
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; 
Despite those titles, power, and pelf, 
The wretch, concentered all in self, 
Living shall forfeit fair renown, 
And, doubly dying, shall go down 
To the vile dust from whence he sprung, 
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung. 

Scott. 



MEMORY GEMS. \2J 

12. 

What constitutes a state ? 
Not high-raised battlement, or labored mound, 

Thick wall, or moated gate ; 
Not cities proud, with spires and turrets crowned ; 

Nor bays and broad-armed ports, 
Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride ; 

Not starred and spangled courts, 
Where low-born baseness wafts perfume to pride : 

No — men, high-minded men, 
With powers as far above dull brutes endued, 

In forest, brake, or den, 
As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude ; 

Men, who their duties know, 
But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain, — 

Prevent the long-aimed blow, 
And crush the tyrant, while they rend the chain — 

These constitute a state ; 
And sovereign Law, that state's collected will 

O'er thrones and globes elate, 
Sits empress, crowning good, repressing ill. 

Smit by her sacred frown, 
The fiend Dissension like a vapor sinks ; 

And e'en the all-dazzling Crown 
Hides his faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks. 

Jones. 



128 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

13. 

What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted ? 
Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just ; 
And he but naked, though locked up in steel, 
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. 

Shakspere. 

14. 

" But why," you ask me, " should this tale be told 

To men grown old, or who are growing old ? 

It is too late, — " Ah, nothing is too late 

Till the tired heart shall cease to palpitate. 

Cato learned Greek at eighty, Sophocles 

Wrote his grand CEdipus, and Simonides 

Bore off the prize in verse from his compeers 

When each had numbered more than fourscore years ; 

And Theophrastus at four score and ten 

Had but begun his characters of men ; 

Chaucer, at Woodstock, with the nightingales, 

At sixty wrote the Canterbury Tales ; 

Goethe, at Weimar, toiling to the last, 

Completed Faust when eighty years were past. 

These are indeed exceptions, but they show 

How far the Gulf Stream of our youth may flow 

Into the Arctic Regions of our lives, 

Where little else than life itself survives. 

Longfellow. 



MEMORY GEMS. 1 29 



15. 



Unhappy he who does his work adjourn, 
And to to-morrow would the search delay : 
His lazy morrow will be like to-day. 

But is one day of ease too much to borrow ? 

Yes, sure ; for yesterday was once to-morrow ; 
That yesterday is gone, and nothing gained : 
And all thy fruitless days will thus be drained ; 
For thou hast more to-morrows yet to ask, 
And wilt be ever to begin thy task ; 
Who, like the hindmost chariot-wheels, art cursed 
Still to be near, but ne'er to reach, the first. 

16. 

So nigh is grandeur to our dust, 

So near is God to man, 
When duty whispers low, " Thou must" 

The youth replies, " / 'can." 

Emerson. 

17- 

We live in deeds, not years ; in thoughts, not breaths ; 
In feelings, not in figures on the dial. 
We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives 
Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best. 

Bailey. 
18. 

It 's no' in treasures nor in rank, 
It's no' in wealth like London bank 



I3O STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

To purchase peace or rest ; 

If happiness ha'e not her seat 

And center in the breast, 

We may be wise, or rich, or great, 

But never can be blest. 

19. 

Full many a gem of purest ray serene 

The dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bear ; 

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 



Burns. 



Gray. 



20. 

They never fail who die 
In a great cause ; the block may soak their gore ; 
Their heads may sodden in the sun ; their limbs 
Be strung to city-gates and castle walls ; 
But still their spirit walks abroad. Though years 
Elapse, and others share as dark a doom, 
They but augment the deep and sweeping thoughts 
Which overpower all others, and conduct 
The world at last to freedom. 



Byron. 



21. 



Give thy thoughts no tongue, 
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. 
Be thou familiar but by no means vulgar : 
The friends thou hast and their adoption tried, 






MEMORY GEMS. I3I 

Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel ; 

But do not dull thy palm with entertainment 

Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware 

Of entrance to a quarrel ; but, being in, 

Bear 't that th' opposed may beware of thee. 

Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice : 

Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. 

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, 

But not expressed in fancy ; rich, not gaudy ; 

For the apparel oft proclaims the man. 

Neither a borrower nor a lender be ; 

For loan oft loses both itself and friend ; 

And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. 

This above all — to thine own self be true ; 

And it must follow, as the night the day, 

Thou canst not then be false to any man. 



Shakspere. 



22. 



Howe'er it be, it seems to me 
'T is only noble to be good ; 
Kind hearts are more than coronets, 
And simple faith than Norman blood. 

23. 
There is a tide in the affairs of men 
Which, taken at its flood, leads on to fortune ; 
Omitted, all the voyage of their life 
Is bound in shallows and in miseries. 

Shaksperi 



132 



STANDARD SELECTIONS. 



24. 

Then out spake brave Horatius, 

The captain of the gate, — 
" To every man upon this earth 

Death cometh soon or late ; 
And how can man die better 

Than facing fearful odds 
For the ashes of his fathers 

And the temples of his gods ? " 

25. 

O wad some power the giftie gie us, 
To see oursels as ithers see us ! 
It wad frae monie a blunder free us 
An' foolish notion. 



Macaulay. 



Burns. 



26. 

O, why should the spirit of mortal be proud ? 
Like a swift -flying meteor, a fast-flying cloud, 
A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave, 
He passes from life to his rest in the grave. 



Knox. 



27. 



Of no distemper, of no blast he died, 
But fell like autumn fruit that mellowed long ; 
Even wondered at, because he dropped no sooner. 
Fate seemed to wind him up for fourscore years ; 
Yet freshly ran he on ten winters more ; 



MEMORY GEMS. I 33 

Till, like a clock worn out with eating time, 
The wheels of weary life at last stood still. 

Dhyden. 
28. 

What might be done if men were wise — 
What glorious deeds, my suffering brother, 

Would they unite 

In love and right, 
And cease their scorn of one another. 

Chas. Mackey. 
29. 
SATURDAY AFTERNOON. 
I love to look on a scene like this 
Of wild and careless play, 
And persuade myself that I am not old, 
And my locks are not yet gray ; 
For it stirs the blood in an old man's heart, 
And makes his pulses fly, 
To catch the thrill of a happy voice 
And the light of a pleasant eye, 

Willis. 

BOYHOOD. 
Ah, then how sweetly closed those crowded days, 
The minutes parting one by one, like rays 
That fade upon a summer's eve. 
But oh ! what charm or magic numbers 
Can give me back the gentle slumbers 
Those weary, happy days did leave ? 



134 STANDARD SELECTIONS. 

When by my bed I saw my mother kneel, 
And with her blessing took her nightly kiss ; 
Whatever Time destroys, he cannot this, — 
Even now that naneless kiss I feel. 

The riches of the commonwealth 

Are free, strong minds and hearts of health ; 

And more to her than gold or grain 

The cunning hand and cultured brain. 

For well she keeps her ancient stock, 
The stubborn strength of Plymouth Rock, 
And still maintains with milder laws 
And clearer light the good old cause ; 

Nor heeds the sceptic's puny hands 

While near her school the church spire stands ; 

Nor fears the blinded bigot's rule 

While near her church spire stands the school. 

Whittier. 

32- 

I would not enter on my list of friends 
(Though graced with polished manners and fine 

sense, 
Yet wanting sensibility) the man 
Who needlessly sets foot upon a w r orm. 
An inadvertent step may crush the snail 
That crawls at evening in the public path ; 
But he that has humanity, forewarned, 
Will tread aside, and let the reptile live. 

COW PER, 



MEMORY GEMS. 1 35 



33- 



O what are the prizes we perish to w T in, 

To the first little " shiner " we caught with a pin ? 

No soil upon earth is so dear to our eyes 

As the soil we first stirred in terrestrial pies ! 

Holmes. 
34- 

How T happy is he born or taught, 
That serveth not another's will ; 

Whose armor is his honest thought, 
And simple truth his utmost skill. 

Sir Henry Wotton. 
35. 

Those evening bells ! those evening bells ! 
How many a tale their music tells 
Of love, and home, and that sweet time 
When last I heard their soothing chime ! 

Those joyous hours are passed away ; 
And many a heart that then was gay 
Within the tomb noiv darkly dwells, 
And hears no more those evening bells. 

And so 't will be when I am gone : 
That tuneful peal will still ring on, 
While other bards shall walk these dells, 
And sing your praise, sweet evening bells. 

Moore. 



"We have nothing as good and are not likely to 
have. " — The Independent. 



ARTHUR GILMAN'S 




A STANDARD BOOK. 



The popular approval of this work has been without par- 
allel in the record of historical books. It is universally 
pronounced the best one-volume history of the United States 
ever published. It is scholarly, complete, of the highest 
literary excellence, and delightful in style. 

We present below a few representative criticisms of this 
popular work, to which we invite the attention of all persons 
who have a voice in the selection of books for school use. 
This History is just what its name implies — a History of 
the American People, and is therefore unlike the or- 
dinary school text-book. It is this fact which has given the 
work such wide popularity. 

"It is marvellously full, and considering the long story to be told, 
crowded with fact and detail ; the graceful style, warm coloring, and 
general life-like animation of the hook is a still greater marvel. Mr. 
G-ilman writes with a happy pen, which never fumbles for a word, and 
has the knack of saying a thing accurately, concisely and gracefully. . . . 
Working very much on the general lines and methods of Mr. Green, in 
his history of the English people, he notes the progress of the arts of life, 
of literature, education and social life, and in discussing political affairs, 
brings them up to the high standard of independent liberalism." — The 
Independent. 

"It is the most attractive one-volume history of the United States 
that we have seen." — Literary World. 

" Nothing better exists as a compendium of our country's history, if in 
a compendium we desire, not figures and facts only, but the rlesh and 
blood reality of living history."' —Boston Transcript. 

" The extreme care with which the facts have been collected, and the 
attention shown to the latest results of investigation and discussion even 
in minor matters, make it very valuable as a book of reference." — Berk- 
shire County Eagle. 

" The author shows rare tact and wisdom." — Chicago Inter-Ocean? 

" A book of rare interest and value." — Herald and Presbyter. 



" It is a good book for out-loud reading at the home fireside. " — Chi- 
cago Standard. 

" Probably the best history of the United States that has appeared in 
a single volume." — Detroit Post and Tribune. 

" Fascinating." — Cleveland Leader. 

" Thoroughly interesting." —Portland Globe. 

" The social and political history of the people of America is told with 
point and brevity, and yet with a wealth of incident and ease of style 
that ensure interest and charm to the narrative . . . It is the most inter- 
esting compendious history that we have ever read." — Outing. 

" By far the best history of our country ever published in one volume. 
... I say without any reserve that there is no other history of the 
United States comparable with this." — J. W. Heston, Pres't Pennsylca- 
nia State College. 

" Easy and readable style." — Boston Journal. 

" Will be read in all sections of the country with equal interest and 
esteem." — The South. 

" The author writes with entire candor in regard to the history of the 
secession movement, and yet there is nothing in his history that can 
properly give offence to the readers in any section of the country." — The 
Capitol, Washington. 

''In the front rank. . . . Probably the most intensely national of 
American histories." — X. Y. Star. 

" Admirably written. It has a backbone." — Boston Herald. 

"Concise, authentic, and thoroughly impartial." — Ansonia Sentinel. 

" Worthy of all commendation. The author is pleasing in style, 
judicious in selection of material, thorough in his investigations, impartial 
inspirit, and wins the reader's sustained attention and cordial approval." 
— Golden Pule. 

"Arthur Oilman does only good things, giving a classic touch to what- 
ever he sets his pen. This volume is a marvel of cheapness, — o(>4 pages 
of Mr. Gilman's best work for £1.00, with numerous illustrations, docu- 
ments, etc. The pages have a romantic halo without doing violence to 
historic accuracy, and there has been a judicious sitting of unimportant 
facts while retaining enough of detail to give it vivacity. The author 
has peculiar facility m introducing the student and reader to the habits, 
customs, and every-day life of the people in every important period of 
our history." — Journal of Education. 

" The author has paid less attention to scenes of battle and suffering, 
and given prominence to the more important social phenomena which mark 
the growth of the people in the arts of civilization and enlightenment. 

The rise of slavery, its effect upon Southern life and manners, and its 
final abolition ; the Webster- Ashburton treaty, the purchase of Louisiana, 
the policies of the government concerning internal improvements, the 
questions connected with the admission of Missouri, Texas, and Kansas, 
the settlement of the Western territories, and the effects of the late civil 
war; these and other prominent topics are treated in a masterly style, 
and in the treatment of them the author has evinced a just appreciation 
of what constitutes the real history of the American people. Another 
pleasing feature of the work is the prominence given to our eminent men. 
The writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson, the State papers of Alexander 
Hamilton, "and the poems of H. W. Longfellow have shed lustre upon 
American literature, and achieved for it a recognition among the scholars 
of the world. , 

Another feature of this work, and one which commends it to all 
Americans, Korth and South, is the absence of sectional feeling, and the 
patriotic sentiments it breathes in favor of our common country. This 
work should be in every family and school library. " — Herald of Education. 



" It is not after the old stereotype plan. The old conventional stories. 
are not told in the old conventional style. It is full of interesting and 
valuable matter. Incidents, often fresh and new, anecdotes, biographical 
sketches, and foot-notes add freshness to the pages." — Education. 

" The work under consideration has many features which highly com- 
mend it. The language used could not be better — in fact, it is more like 
reading a letter from a friend than it is like reading a history. The typo- 
graphy is perfect, and the illustrations have a freshness about them that 
is indeed pleasing. These features, combined with the passages devoted 
to the manners and customs of the past ; extracts from papers, letters, 
and diaries, put the reader on a familiar footing with the people de- 
scribed, and place the book far above the average — among the best of its 
kind." — Carolina Teacher. 

"Excellent." — Frederick W. Farrar, Canon of Westminster, London, 

England. 

" It is my ideal History. It is not a batch of dry historical facts, and 
yet facts are clearly expressed, but a pleasing story. It is simply superb." 
— L. Tornlin, Supt. of Schools, Parsons, Kans. 

From Dr. Henry Goodwin, Bishop of Carlisle, England. 

Rose Castle, Carlisle, July 3, 1886. 

"The Bishop of Carlisle acknowledges with much gratitude the re- 
ceipt of the ' History of the American People ' kindly sent to him by 
the Interstate Publishing Company. It seems to be just the book for 
which the Bishop Avas inquiring when lately enjoying a trip (only too 
short) in the United States." 



It not infrequently happens that a book written for other 
purposes is found to have an especial appropriateness for 
use in the class-room as a text-book. This seems to be the 
case with Mr. Gilman's History, and it has already found 
its way into some of the best of American Schools and Col- 
leges. The reason is found in the fact that it is intensely 
American ; that the chapters are written in an entertaining 
style that does not usually characterize text-books; that 
great prominence is given to the philosophy of our history ; 
and that it contains an appendix in which the student has 
laid before him the exact text of documents illustrating our 
Constitutional history which are not easy to find elsewhere. 

It will be noticed that there is a singular unanimity of 
opinion expressed in the above extracts. If any school is in 
need of such a book, it will be wise to examine this. A 
sample copy for examination will be mailed to any address 
on receipt of one dollar. 

The Interstate Publishing Company, 

30 Franklin St., Boston. 183, 185, 187 Wabash Ave., Chicago. 



"AN ADMIRABLE BOOK.'* 

The Travelling Law School 
and Famous Trials. 

[FIRST LESSONS IN GOVERNMENT AND LAW.] 

By BENJAMIN VAUGHAN ABBOTT, LLD. 



INTRODUCTION PRICE 60 GENTS. 



The author has packed into the two hundred and twenty-eight 
pages of this volume about as much practical and important in- 
formation as they can well hold. Although it is put in form espe- 
cially for the instruction and information of young readers, there 
is no person outside the legal profession who may not learn from 
it something he did not know before, touching the laws of the 
country in themselves, as well as concerning his own rights and 
privileges under them. In the opening paper the author treats 
upon the nature of governments — national, state, and local — 
and shows why they are all necessary. He further describes the 
manner in which laws are made and administered. The plan of 
the book presupposes a party of young law students travelling 
from Boston to Washington, stopping on the way at Philadelphia 
and New York. They are under the guidance of a teacher, who 
loses no opportunity of impressing upon them lessons in their 
profession during their journey. For instance, he explains to 
them the legal rights of a passenger over a railroad, and supposes 
certain contingencies where questions of right would come up be- 
tween travellers and the corporation. An important paper is de- 
voted to " Bargains and Business," and another to "Money and 
Banks." A second part of the volume is devoted to an account of 
some famous trials in this country and Europe. 



From the Literary World. 

"The author's object is to give a series of first lessons on forms of 
government and principles of law. This is done by means of a very 
slight framework of imagination, a large amount of anecdote and illus- 



tration, a singularly lucid explanatory style, and a fullness of knowledge 
that ' backs '"the narrative with manifest strength. The Travelling Law 
School is a fictitious body, taken about from place to place ; all the ob- 
jects and experiences encountered on the journey being examined in their 
legal aspects and relations, and their functions as such pointed out. 
Things that one can own are discriminated from things that are common 
property ; Boston, New York, and Washington are differentiated in their 
civil and political bearings ; the laws of the streets and the railroads, of 
money and the banks, of wills, evidence, fraud, and so forth and so on, 
are expounded by means of ' famous trials,' and otherwise in an ingenious, 
always entertaining, and thoroughly instructive manner. We do not see 
why a course of instruction along the line of such topics as these would 
not be a wise feature in many schools of the higher grade, for which Mr. 
Abbott's book would be an admirable text-book. The study of such a 
book would be in the nature of a recreation, so full is it of matters of 
living interest, while of its practical value there could be only one opinion. 
Structurally it is in two parts, the second of which, entitled 'Famous 
Trials,' is separately paged." 



From the N. Y. Daily Sun. 

" The book is ostensibly written for boys, but it may be heartily com- 
mended to adult readers of both sexes. It is surprising how much sound 
law the author manages to insinuate in the guise of interesting incidents 
and pleasing anecdotes. Even they who are sickened by the scent of 
sheepskin and law calf, and who would as soon think of entering on a 
coarse of Calvinistic theology as on a study of jurisprudence, will imbibe 
through the author's cheerful narrative a good many useful notions of 
their legal rights and duties, just as children are persuaded to swallow an 
aperient in the shape of prunes or rigs. 

"In ' The Travelling Law School,' as the name implies, the reader is 
invited to accompany a party of young students in a tour through several 
of the Atlantic States, the incidents of the journey suggesting succinct 
accounts of the main features of federal, state, and municipal law. A 
much larger sum of information can be thus informally conveyed in 
about a hundred pages than would at first sight be deemed possible ; 
and notwithstanding the suspicion with which lawyers are apt to regard 
the transmission of knowledge through such a pleasant medium, we are 
able to vouch in this instance for its accuracy. We have been particu- 
larly struck by the light which the author manages to throw, in a quick, 
unaffected way, on the characteristic features of the American Constitu- 
tion. This hedoes by illustrations drawn from the organic laws of other 
countries possessing parliamentary institutions, and his references, on the 
whole, are singularly exact, though he might perhaps have laid more 
stress on the centralizing tendencies which survive in the executive 
branch of the French republican government. 

" The plan followed in ' Famous Trials ' is to take a given topic, like 
forgery, confessions, mistaken identity or circumstantial evidence, and to 
illustrate the points best worth remembering by some actual and int^JcSt- 
ing case in which they were strikingly brought out." 



The Interstate Publishing Company, 

30 Franklin St., Boston. 183, 185, 187 Wabash Ave., Chicago. 



THE NATURAL ARITHMETIC. 

By Zalmon Richards, A. M. 

PRINCIPAL OF THE ECLECTIC SEMINARY, WASHINGTON, D. C. 



In offering The Natural Arithmetic for use in schools, all that is 
asked for it is a careful and unbiased examination by those competent to 
pass judgment on an arithmetical text-book. 

It is simple ; thorough, and practical. It is brief and inexpensive. 

It has been prepared to meet the pressing demands of the times. It is 
based upon a few well-known facts, not usually recognized by other authors. 

ist, That the essential principles of arithmetic are few ; that there are 
only four kinds of numbers in common use ; viz : first, units of whole num- 
bers, or integers ; second, units of tenths, or decimals ; third, units of. vary- 
ing names, or common fractious ; and, fourth, units of different names ex- 
pressed in combination, or denominate numbers. 

2d, That there are only four ways or methods of using each of these four 
kinds of numbers : First, the adding of all kinds of numbers ; second, the 
subtracting of all kinds of numbers ; third, the multiplying of all kinds of 
numbers; fourth, the dividing of all kinds of numbers. 

This makes up all there is of pure arithmetic ; and, therefore, the mas- 
tery of arithmetic requires, first, the ability to read understanding^ all these 
kinds of numbers ; second, the ability to add them ; third, the ability to sub- 
tract them; fourth, the ability to multiply them; fifth, to divide them; and, 
sixth, to apply them to the various demands of life. 

But to become accurate and rapid in the operations of arithmetic, every 
pupil must be taught always to bear in mind (a) the real meaning of the 
numbers to be used; (b) that all numbers to be compared with each otner 
must have the same denominate value and the same name. 

Under these conditions they can be used as simple, whole numbers ; and 
by the observance of them The Natural Arithmetic will simplify and 
shorten the study of all kinds of fractions, and will remc /e more than half 
the difficulties in applying the principles of percentage. Every essential 
principle of arithmetic, from the idea of imity to mensuration of all common 
surfaces and solids, is embraced in about 130 pages. 

There are also sufficient illustrations for any ordinary pupil under the 
instructions of properly qualified teachers. Every teacher can readily under- 
stand and master the principles and methods, and will soon become de- 
lighted with the book. 

The results of using the book will be seen as follows : — 

1. The subject of arithmetic will be mastered in one-half the time usually 
allotted to the study of it. 

2. The pupils will acquire a clearer idea of arithmetic, and a greater 
facility in applying its principles, than is usual. 



3. When the pupils have mastered the work, they will feel confident that 
they unders..«,nd the essential principles of arithmetic. 

4. Xot only will much time be saved in using this book, but three-fourths 
of the usual expense for books on this subject will be avoided. 

5. Any ordinary person of mature mind can master the subject of arith- 
metic, by using this book, without the aid of a teacher. 

6. Teachers who will use this book carefully will find the work of teach- 
ing arithmetic much easier and pleasanter than when using other works. 



A FEW TESTIMONIALS. 

" This book is a ' Multum in Parvo; ' but contains every essential arithmetical principle nec- 
essary for our youth to learn; clearly demonstrated in 122 pages." — N. Y. School Journal. 

"If the man who causes two blades of grass to grow where but one grew before is a ben- 
efactor to his race, he who simplifies and shortens the road to knowledge is not less so. And 
this is what our townsman's little work does. While it is prepared especially for elementary 
schools, it really seems to contain and explain about all the arithmetical principles absolutely 
necessary in carrying on the common pursuits of life, and if it receives the recognition its 
merits deserve, it will speedily take its place among the standard text-books of the country." — 
Washington Evening Star. 

"It might well have for its legend ' multnm in parvo.' You have succeeded in clearly 
presenting all the essential principles of arithmetic, and their applications, within the compass 
of one small and inexpensive book. Your long experience in the school-room has enabled you 
to make many practical suggestions which will be very valuable to teachers. I am glad 
to see one text-book on arithmetic that contains no useless or worse than useless matter, and 
this feature of yours will commend it to a wide field of usefulness." — J. Or mono 7 Wilson t 
Washington , D. C 

" I have looked through The Natural Arithmetic, and am prepared to commend its gen- 
eral plan. I have long been opposed to the excessive amount of time consumed in public 
schools in the study of arithmetic, and I welcome every effort to abridge that time. I believe 
this little book of 122 pages contains all the arithmetic that the ordinary common school-boy 
needs to learn ; and that in the hands of expert and earnest teachers it will be found practicable 
and useful." — Hon. John M. Gregory, late U. S. Civil Service Com'r. 

*' Richards' Natural Arithmetic promises well. As soon as I have a class to which it is 
adapted I will give it a trial. The trial of the class-room is the only satisfactory test of a 
school-book. I have known Mr. Richards favorably by reputation for many years, and have 
confidence in his ability to make a good text-book." — H.A. Pratt, Principal of Pratt 's 
English and Classical School, Shelbume Falls, Mass. 

" The plan of the book is much the same as I have used in the Normal School for several 
years, and has in it all that is essential for the practical arithmetician. I am glad to see this 
attempt at organizing the subject. It augurs well for the future of arithmetic teaching." — 
AT. Neivby, Professor of Maiiiemaiics, Indiana State Normal School. 

INTRODUCTION PRICE, 32 CENTS. 

A teacher's edition has been prepared, containing an Appendix, with 
numerous examples for practice, and more detailed explanations of methods. 
Price of Teacher's Edition, 50 cents. 



The Interstate Publishing Company, 

30 Franklin St., Boston. 183, 185, 187 Wabash Ave., Chicago. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



022 204 584 8 



